today, in puddles.

December blew in on the ragged teeth of a southeaster. Not particularly cold. No. Yet there is a persistent dampness now, a west coast specialty that seeps into the bones with its chill and settles there for the winter if you're not paying attention. The skies looked both promising and threatening as I stepped out for a morning walk, after crawling reluctantly from the warm bed. I soon learned the latter was the truest, gentle drops spreading out in the puddles turning into a deluge in the blink of an eye. Beware the sucker hole. I slipped through the woods, pausing for a reprieve under a big tree, the small roof of a park sign, the lee side of a tall hedge. My usual loop was curtailed by the surge high tide, driftwood knocking together gently in the remains of storm swells, at the very edge of the forest. I backtracked in the downpour, along the creek that was swelling its banks. All the wild beasts seemed hunkered down too; only one doe and her fawn lingered in the park, and the little chickadees seemed the only birds braving the rain to say hello. I decided my own lingering was through and headed back home to get dry.

Back at home there was puttering to be done. An adventskrans of sorts to prepare for tomorrow's first lighting. The contemplation of the other holiday ornaments, and where they might fit in our new house. All that cleaning that gets neglected during the busy weekdays. Dishes. Starfish stitching. Finally completing and hanging the pinecone garland I've been thinking about for weeks. Watching the wee birds that flit to the suet outside the kitchen window. All while the rain fell steadily outside. You know, a whole lot of nothing that seems like something at the time.

How was your Saturday?

gale force...

They roll in one after another, storm after storm.  November is wrapped in a howl, a shriek of wind rattling through bare branches, a froth of whitewater pounding the shore. Last night I lay awake, watched the clock blink to 3:33 as the rush of wind swirled around the house and the trees creaked and swayed. Tonight could be much the same. In the middle of the day the wind calmed, bright light tried to poke through the clouds. A little window in between, an exhalation, a lull. We stepped outside for an amble down the road and through the woods. But as the tendrils of evening began to set in, so too did the wind, first tickling at the trees and then blowing through them in great sighs. I rode the ferry back in darkness, feeling the deck shift and shudder underneath us. My truck veered sideways again and again on the rain-slicked highway, pushed by the strong gusts, and even in the black night I could see the white-capped peaks of swell after swell marching toward shore. Now tucked into the house, one small candle burning as I contemplate bed, and a staccato of rain on the windows accompanies the whirling and rushing of the gale outside. I check the current conditions again on the marine forecast, my compulsive habit. Southeast 34 knots, gusting to 42. A mighty wind blows indeed.

By tomorrow morning, there may be another eye. But by afternoon another tempest will be moving in, and Monday will follow the same pattern. The rhythm of the coast. The rhythm of November. Up in the hills this rain is a blizzard, and many an island skier is dreaming of a winter wonderland. Soon. For now my dreams will be woven with the last swirling leaves and the soundtrack of swaying evergreens, the thunk of branches torn free and cast recklessly upon the house. Time to tuck in, curl up under the quilts against the warm man beside me. The storms of winter are here.

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>> These photos have nothing to do with the above contemplation, although storm watching is an increasingly popular activity on the west coast of the island. AK and I made a little journey out last weekend to soak up the wild Pacific before we both get caught up in winter in our valley and on the mountain above, both our jobs (well one of my jobs) revolving around the white stuff piling up in the hills. There was even a taste of winter to come on the drive over, winding up through the pass with rain changing to white flurries beating the windshield and snow piling up under the tires. But it was a break we needed and revelled in, even as short as it was.

Keep warm, lovelies. Winter is coming.

wordless wednesday...

oh deer me...

Clack, click, clack! I knew that sound, deep in my bones, even if I couldn't quite believe it at first. Clack, clack! Feet quickened on pavement, reaching the edge of the towering hedge to peer through the iron rods of the gate. And there, two bucks across the field, tangled up in a joust for power. Awe, and then my instincts took over and I knelt to change lenses on my camera. When I looked up again, the pair were grazing side by side, best of friends, and I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing. I moved in tentatively, footsteps soft in the leaf-covered grass. In this neighbourhood they feel safe; letting me approach close if I keep calm, move smoothly. These two males had both been congenial before, when I found them individually. But two bucks in rut was a recipe for an antler to the gut, or worse. I kept a big oak between us as I peered through the telephoto lens, my boots buried in the leaves and acorns blanketing the grass. Day was easing into twilight, the grey sky and last remaining leaves providing a perpetual shadow on the park.

Soon enough one two-spike eyed the other, and with a low head pushed his rack against the waiting tines of the other. A slow, lazy sort of dance took place, each testing their skills without pushing it too far. It seemed like practice, either easing into the mating season or prepping for bigger bucks who might come looking for the large group of does in the adjacent field. One buck had a slight edge on the other, antlers just a bit thicker on a head with just a bit more weight - but neither was ready to make any claims to "king of the forest". I barely breathed and watched their tangled tango.

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You may have noticed posting has changed around here, a little. I've been doing this for quite a while (2006!) but more and more I've felt my posts churned out more for quantity than quality. I'm trying to change that, focus a bit more on my writing for what I hope is a better narrative. It used to be all I ever wanted to do was write, before I delved into photography and other hobbies. And I'd like to bring that writing back more. Somedays I feel I could just abandon the whole thing, but for now I'm keeping this little corner of my world. I seem to be filled with a lot of discontent these days, dissatisfied with the life that's unfolding. But when I'm walking through the sodden forest trails, out in the crisp wind at the shore, or stalking deer through a field - I'm never happier. So I hope to share that with you more here in as realistic a way as I can, do my best to bring you out into the wilds with me, and hope you will love it as I do. I'm sure things will keep evolving, but for now this is what I can do. If you have thoughts on what you'd like to see here, shoot me a note at fogandswell [at] gmail [dot] com.

bear country...

"Jen!" The word came out in a terse gust of air, my breath and my feet caught short as I stopped dead in my tracks. She pulled back too, but took a second to identify the cause of my concern. After that one word burst, my voice failed me and I could only stand frozen. Steps below the trail, belly deep in a lazy section of river, stood a black bear fishing for salmon. He didn't look up at first, and we backed slowly away, our eyes glued to the big beast. But, nature nerds that the two of us are, we didn't get too far away before our cameras came out, trained on the black hulk wading through the current. After a few moments of river recon, the bear abruptly climbed up the bank and started toward us on the trail.

Backing up a little...a couple hours earlier we had been bushwhacking through wet young hemlocks and brush just off the highway some ways north of town, getting soaked and hunting for chanterelles. The thick young evergreens hid even our feet as we navigated the hillside, but when we stopped and tucked below the branches, golden 'shrooms revealed themselves through the mossy duff. We were soaked as we emerged again onto the overgrown logging road, but each of the five of us carried a bag full of forest treasure ready for dinner. I eyed my extra prize - a giant, moss-covered vertebra from an elk, after discovering its skeleton remains on the forest floor - likely discarded some time ago after a hunter took the meat and head. We returned to town satisfied, and after dropping off the other women I asked my friend (she who takes me to see many wild beasts) if she was up for a walk along a favoured salmon river. Gamely, we drove to the trailhead. After surveying the crowd of cars in the parking lot, she deemed it unlikely we'd see any bears today, and we set to walking through the carpet of maple leaves along the water's edge. But that confident assertion proved untrue...

Boots feeling slick in the mud, we backed up again until we rounded a bend in the trail, hidden from view. After a breathless pause, a curious black face poked around the next bend. He didn't seem aggressive, but he showed no fear either, and we tucked back out of view and moved back again to the next bend. We wished out loud that he would return to the river and we might be able to sneak past, feeling our walk was being cut unduly short otherwise. We could have tried to scare him off, but didn't want to disturb him if we didn't have to. Jen had already stopped an off-leash pup in its tracks and directed it and its owner back in the opposite direction, but we were a bit more stubborn. Again the bear appeared around the corner we had just left, watching us, coming along steadily. We retreated one more time. All was quiet but for the gurgles of the river. I saw a black shape appear around the bend, but just as quickly it tucked down into the brush along the river's edge. We waited. Then Jen started forward with a stick in hand, a frail looking thing not more than a couple feet long, less than an inch in diameter. I wasn't sure what she planned to do, exactly, with that sad little weapon, but I quickly followed behind.

But that massive black bear had disappeared, vanished into the dwindling leaves along the river's edge and nowhere to be seen. We continued on up the trail, ears perked to any sound, hearts still pumping with adrenaline. Nothing but the river's rushing journey, although the signs of recent bear activity (*ahem*) were frequent on the path.

On the way back down, we peered out from a little overlook above the river. A rustle in the bushes on the opposite shore alerted us to another beast clambering along. He emerged, unconcerned with us but in tune with every splash of the active salmon swimming upstream. We felt much more relaxed as he ambled along, a deep section of water separating us this time. We spoke in whispers as he tested the water, gnawed on a rotten fish found on the river bed. He continued on up the shore and we continued on our journey back to the truck, wide eyed and invigorated by our close brush with the wild out in the crisp October air.

wordless wednesday...

through the woods, to the beach...

Out of the car and up the stairs. Like a kid out of school and eager to go play, I'm inside just long enough to don my boots and some woolen layers. With camera and gathering bag slung over my shoulder, I grab a handful of chocolate chips and I'm out the door again. The air is crisp with a mostly blue sky overhead, and the smell of wood smoke is in the air. A few blocks through quiet streets and then I'm tucked under the canopy of the trees, heading downhill on dirt into the woods. The last rays of sun light up the fallen leaves like bits of stained glass on the dark path underfoot. The creek gurgles, renewed with all the recent rain. Down across the bridge and I see the huge maple, a canopy of yellow leaves just a few days ago, nearly bare now as a storm or two has come through. A bit farther along and I am out of the woods again, out in the grasses above the bay. The light is warm, golden as it comes across the blades, reflects off the turning leaves of the trees that border this open space. The sky itself is full of drama, grey-blue clouds with a blaze of sun, a hint of rain over closer to town.

I am caught up, entranced. Clambering over old driftwood I shoot photo after photo, trying to capture that light before it slips away. The high pitched whistle of eagles come lilting through the air, and I spot a small crew in the tops of the trees. Out in the bay a paddling of ducks sets off in squawking half-flight, upset by some unseen disturbance, only to settle into their float again a few moments later just a little farther off.

I am busy behind the camera, but all too soon the sun is fading, slipping behind the hills. I know if I wait much longer I will be walking back through the woods in the dark. A few more snaps and I reluctantly pull away, slipping back beneath the trees. I make a quick stop at the deer skeleton, checking the decaying process beneath the leaves, assured that no one else has found it. Then it's back along the winding pathways through the tall firs, eyes and ears alert as always. Over another bridge and steady back up the hill to the street. In minutes I'm climbing up the front stairs again, cheeks red and nose cold, but heart full. Time to make up a big pot of chili, to warm the bones on this cold autumn night.

October, 'tis...

I wish you could walk with me, through the woods. See how the ground has soaked up the new rain, how the moss has turned green again overnight. With the rain comes its companion the wind, and I can hear the swoosh of the southeasterly gust moving through the tree tops. But down here on the trail it's calm, quiet but for the rustle underfoot and the steady croak of little tree frogs.

Birds of all sizes are busy these days, from the wee winter wren in the underbrush with its "chip, CHIP CHIP!" to the plaintive calls of the northern flickers in the forest canopy. Winter's breath is just around the corner, and each day the woods change as they prepare. The forest floor is becoming carpeted with maple leaves, and if you listen quietly you can hear the plink plunk plink as a soggy yellow leaf makes its way through the branches to fall to earth.

I walk quietly, sturdy boots taking soft steps on the dirt paths. My pace is slow but steady, owl eyes darting constantly to try and see everything, deer ears straining for every sound. And then there, on the path, is a deer, although it takes me a moment to match the shape with memory. This deer is twisted, decaying, bones poking out through sodden fur and a macabre grin below empty eye sockets. I contemplate it, saddened but fascinated, and pondering whether I can salvage some of those bones. I will leave it a bit, but there might be some treasure there, a form of reverence for a once majestic creature. There are bits and pieces at every turn, if one is looking - laurel berries to dye with, chicken-of-the-woods mushrooms for eating, fallen leaves to admire. It's all a form of reverence, really.

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I might be absent from here for a bit. I need to do some thinking. I will probably still be posting things over on flickr and anything new for the shop will be posted on facebook too. Hope your Sunday is going well.

wordless wednesday...

autumn in the alpine...

Popping in for another relatively quick hello. Happy Thanksgiving to all my fellow Canadians! We had a nice dinner here last night with some friends; a mountain of delicious food was devoured. Today is quieter, in certain ways but not in others. I sat on the couch for a bit this morning as the sun filtered in behind me, shadows and flurries of activity catching the corner of my eye. I soon realized that all sorts of birds were flitting about outside, between the bushes and the roof's edge, including at least one Northern flicker who kept perching on the wall of the house just outside the window to tap-tap-tap away. There were other species I didn't recognize, but I look forward to getting to know more new neighbours.

The shots above were taken on Saturday at the local ski hill, where not a flurry was spotted just yet. That's okay - the weather was beautiful, autumn alpine colours under a swathe of rich blue sky. A bit of fall crispness seemed in order, but the sun shone down with surprising heat and the mountain breeze had no bite. I'm looking forward to snow up there, but what a sweet afternoon in that fleeting environment.

Today definitely calls for a bit of outdoor exploring: to walk off last night's dinner, to pick some more blackberries, to enjoy the sunshine. Our months of extended blue skies look they just might be reaching their end later this week. Now if I could just find my battery charger that has been hiding since the move - my camera is basically dead and as I'm sure you could guess that just isn't going to fly for me.

Hope you have a great day whether it's a holiday or just plain old Monday!

the new neighbours...

Yesterday, as the warm sun began to slip below the trees and the air regained its crispness, I ventured out to a park near my new home. Not my usual sort of walk, no winding trails through tall evergreens or an open expanse of shore. This park is home to several old heritage buildings, wide lawns dotted with rare trees and manicured flower beds. It's a beautiful spot right on the water, and I wanted to go hunting for acorns like the ones i had gathered there last year. Stepping through the gate, I was immediately drawn to the last rays of light hitting the newly fallen leaves, brought down in the gusting northwesterly making its way through. Happily snapping away, a bit of movement caught my eye and a little fawn stood up from the grass, less than 50 feet away. Way to be observant, K.

The small deer and its mom, just a little farther off, eyed me for a minute, but then continued with their grazing. I moved in a little closer and they seemed unconcerned, so I sat down on the grass. Mama nibbled at the green blades, but then stood alert, looking past me. I heard no sounds, but suddenly another doe and an even smaller fawn trotted past on either side of me. The little group seemed to exchange a greeting of sorts. I was getting the impression this was a popular spot for the little black tailed deer; they know they are safe in this little swathe of trees.

As I wandered a wide circle through the different levels of grass, I came upon several other mamas and their little ones. I'll need to go back a bit earlier in the day when there is brighter light. But in the meantime, I also made note of the different trees; on top of the Garry oaks, there are black walnuts, horse chestnuts, apples and pears. I might need to gather some walnuts when they start coming down more, breaking out of their green pods - try a little dyeing with them.

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I forgot how much moving disrupts your life. I've been unpacking every evening after work, but I'm still surrounded by boxes. It took me four days to find the library book that was overdue. I'm especially looking forward to setting up our bedroom, but the ceiling needs to be painted first, so we're sleeping in the spare bedroom, with more boxes and piles of clothing. Not exactly relaxing. And yes, I suppose I could get started on that painting, but...well, I don't have any really good reason, other than AK left me with all these boxes to unpack, so he can do the painting when he gets back in a couple days. Nothing like a little passive-aggressiveness in a healthy relationship. :)

And I'm staring at a little wolf, or what will eventually be a wolf. Right now he's just the body, with no features or embellishments. I think I know where my basic tools are, so perhaps I should just stop browsing the web and get started on it!

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>> I'm also very much enjoying this A.A. Bondy song.

in a fog...

Things have been a bit quiet around here, hey? My old house is a squall of boxes and random items strewn about, my new house slowly being stacked with items we have moved in the past week. The big final push is this evening and tomorrow, and by Saturday night I should be looking at the same mess but in reverse as I start setting up our new home. Fun...? But I didn't tell you the best part - at this time of year, our old place is well ensconced in shadow by four in the afternoon. Yet when I took a load over to the new place at 6:30 yesterday evening, there was still sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. Sweet.

I went out of town for a few days this week to attend a work conference on the south end of the island. It's not an area that I get to visit too often, and although we were mainly isolated to the hotel where the conference was held, at least it was on the water where we had a beautiful view to greet us each day. The view was a bit obscured at times, due to a rolling bank of fog moving in and out of the harbour from the open Pacific, but in some ways that made it all the more interesting.

Hope you're having a good week.

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A few good things from around the interwebs:
>> These pumpkin poppers would be perfect for a tasty treat on a cool autumn morning.
>> So far I've resisted the friendship bracelet resurgence (although I made so many as a kid!), but these  large scale ones from the purl bee may have won me over.
>> I'm in love with this art piece from Valeriane Leblond.

fall friday...

It's fall tomorrow. Fall. On the one hand this year is flying by; on the other, I love to be in the midst of this season. Autumn has been coming on very slowly around here - summer was so very late in arriving (really not until the second week of July), but the last two months have overflowed with sunny days. We could desperately use some rain, but I think it's coming in the next few days; here's hoping there might be a few more sunny ones before the grey of November arrives. Still, there are a few mushrooms that poke up without any rain at all.

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Much of this weekend will be spent getting a head start on moving, with next weekend to finish things up. Yeah, that sounds fun.

I've started adding naturally dyed fabric packs to the shop. I hope they will be something you will enjoy using in your own stitching projects. If I get a break in the midst of packing, I will try and get a couple more in there. I just got some lovely buttery yellows from some mushroom dyeing. Each pack will be unique, as I dye in small quantities - and I like to keep some of it for myself too!

shift...

Today's walk confirmed it. Despite what the calendar says, autumn has arrived. A few good, albeit short, soakings of rain and the air has changed. There is a crisp wind coming down off the hills, rattling its way along the dry maples along the river's edge and swirling yellow leaves into eddies. The snails are revelling in the moisture of drenched moss and climbing out to the tips of the sword ferns. The mushrooms haven't had much of  chance to poke through, but a large velvety polypore waited for me alongside the trail. I believe it's a dyer's polypore, and the portion that I brought home is currently creating a yellow dye liquid.

The little cottontails flashed their white tails and hid in the thicket, and the peah of a flicker and the coarse mewwww of towhees noted my passage back to the truck. We are sure to have a few warm afternoons yet, but there's no denying it. In the fading light of a storm and sun day, fall is here.

November desktop calendar...

a new desktop calendar to start off the month (click on the photo to download). wow, november? ours came in quite chilly after a clear all hallows eve. first morning i've had to scrape my car windows this year. tonight the clouds are moving in and another southeaster will blow, much as i'm sure it will most of this month. but our house will be nice and warm as some friends come over to watch the hockey game and eat appies and drink beer. i made stuffed mushrooms (cream cheese/walnuts/apples) and potstickers filled with red lentils & red pepper. i'll let you know if they are any good (haven't cooked either yet). i think they will go well with the other treats being brought. hope you're staying warm and dry tonight!

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ETA: yum! the potstickers were inspired by Heidi's recipe, but i used red lentils spiced with red chilies, cumin & paprika, plus some finely chopped bell pepper as the filling. i also used wonton wrappers, which i think are smaller than the potsticker wrappers she used (and square), but they perfect little bite-sized morsels. now i'm imagining all the other fillings i could put in potstickers.

the mushrooms were awesome too - literally what i said above: i mixed up light cream cheese with chopped walnuts, apple, the mushroom stems, garlic, and a bit of salt & pepper. spoon into the mushroom caps (i used creminis) and bake. i never tire of coming up with new flavours for stuffed mushrooms. i suspect these would be fantastic with some prosciutto added in too (pork + apples + mushrooms + nuts = awesome), but i was making everything vegetarian in accordance with the company last night.

>>>>also - please let me know if the calendar looks a little lackluster when you use it. the colours are very bright and vibrant when i posted the image to flickr, but here on the blog it seems quite a bit dulled. is it just me?