flotsam and jetsam...

A few random bits and pieces here and there...

>>> Above are some shots from our low tide wander last Saturday. Lots of eagles, lots of sand, lots of sunshine. And beach exploring with my two boys; what could be better? (Including when AK entertains Ty so I can stalk some wildlife - bless him.)

>>> With AK away all this week, stitching happened not at all. Hmmm. Perhaps it's because every time I sit on the couch (which is where I generally work) I end up in this position. There are a lot of things taking shape in my mind - does that count?

>>> It's a grey, threatening-rain kind of day, chilly for June 1. Seems a good night to try out this one pot pasta recipe.

>>> I'm eagerly awaiting the arrival of my new running tights Yeah, I hate running. Except apparently the natural follow of all this dog walking is dog running (okay, we're mostly walk/runners right now). I'm not setting any expectations yet, just seeing how it goes. But cute new running pants are always helpful for encouragement.

>>> I love sewing projects using selvage. This pillow is a prime example of the cool things that can be made with what are in theory "scraps."

>>> I love how Stasia of the Stray Arrow combines poetry and beautiful metalwork.

>>> If the sun comes back, this banana & peanut butter 'ice cream' might be the perfect treat to make at home.

Hope you're having a great weekend!

[not so] wordless wednesday...

A pair of American robins have tucked in and made themselves a home on the roof of our deck, where it is overlapped with the roof overhang from the house, and thus quite well protected. The deck roof is really just corrugated plastic sheeting, which is why I easily spotted the nest from below. I feel a bit guilty each time I venture out onto the deck now, as it seems no matter how quiet I step I am sure to flush one of them from the nest. If I am quiet enough though, and wait patiently, they will come back. I can't wait till there are little chirplings, and maybe if I am lucky they will drop a few shell pieces down to me below.

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>>> for Michele who asked, Ty is a pitbull mix. For those who don't know, "pitbull" is not actually a breed, but gets used as a lump term for several breeds (Staffordshire Bull Terrier, American Staffordshire Terrier, American Pitbull Terrier) and other dogs with that "bully" look. I'm only clarifying because I think the mass description is often unfair, and poorly informed (many people will identify a dog as a pitbull when it is not - test yourself with this quiz), which leads to breed stereotyping. In Ty's case, he is a mutt of undetermined breeds, although we did rescue him from an organization that specifically works to find home for "pitbulls" who generally have the lowest rates of adoption in regular shelters.

barbados: fauna

Besides the amazing sea turtles, there were a lot of other animals in Barbados to admire. All kinds of birds, amphibians and more, just a few of which I've tried to capture here. Such an interesting variety of creatures quite different than my own west coast beasts. Although I had desperately hoped to spot a monkey or two, all these guys kept me well entertained. As always, please click on the images to see more info about each one in flickr.

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The wind howled all night and the rain came down, down, down. Ty stared at me in disbelief this morning when I led him out just after 6 for a walk on dark, wet streets with the trees swaying around us. We only did the small loop though, just to clear him out and hopefully hold him till this afternoon. Poor boy, but tomorrow there'll be someone to play (or sleep!) with him all day.

Whether you're weathering a storm or seeing the evidence of bright spring days, here's a few links to check out today:
>>> I have a sad little shamrock hanging on in my kitchen window, but I'm thinking I should upgrade its living quarters.
>>> Is it sad I kind of wish one of my denim shirts would spring a hole so I could mend it as beautifully as this?
>>> These buttermilk berry muffins sound delicious, and I even have buttermilk on hand from making soda bread for St. Patty's. Definitely will be made this weekend.

oh the noise, noise, noise!*

*Excuse my random Grinch reference, especially at this time of year, but it was appropriate considering the racket these big beasts can create. Just like last year, the beginning of March coincides with the spring herring run in the Strait. Countless fish appear in our waters to spawn, and their eggs cling to every bit of seaweed that washes ashore. And with all that herring and eggs comes a variety of other creatures big and small flocking to the east side of Vancouver Island to gorge on the calorie boon. While there are numerous places along the shore to spot the sea lions that come in to feed (including hearing them from my house), one of the best spots to see them haul out is down in Fanny Bay. And just like last year, I headed down to visit the big party.

On this sunny weekend day, I wasn't the only one - a steady of people came and went down the dock to stand on the float at the end and wonder at the raucous colony arguing over space on the pontoon floating just off shore. A constant chorus of "aaarr! aaarr! aaarr!" fills the air, so without even looking I know that most of these burly beast are California sea lions; a glance confirms this by noting the large sagittal crest on the foreheads of the big males. There are a few lighter, larger Stellers in the group, but they seem in the minority, at least for today. While eyes are instantly drawn to the sea lions hauled out on the pontoons and the edge of an aging Seaspan barge, there are plenty of swimmers in the water. Poking their heads out from under the barge stern. Swimming along the float edge in search of a space of their own to haul out. And a raft of creatures a little farther out, bobbing together as they nap with a flipper thrust toward the sky to soak up some sun and regulate their body temp. Even if I don't stay for long, it is always worth it to come spend a little time with these giant furry beasts.

But my own furry beast is waiting, albeit much smaller and less noisy. Thank you for all your kind comments about our new family member. He is fitting in quite well, despite the stress of adjusting to a new home, owners, and immediate neighbourhood (no big beach walks or new doggie friends just yet), all while finishing off a course of antibiotics and painkillers in his first few days with us. And as mentioned on fb last night, it seems I can be crafty even with a snoring pup's head resting in my lap!

Hope you're having a good week!

a sea of turtles...

The "Wasn't Me" sailed slowly up the coast, the catamaran riding up and over each swell under a blistering sun. Thankful for the breeze, I sipped my rum & pineapple and watched the shoreline pass by. The boat eased in between two surf breaks and anchored, and a crew member doled out snorkelling gear while another was already in the water, using a bit of bread to lure a green sea turtle to the surface. I stayed on board and snapped my camera as AK bobbed in the turquoise sea, a fat turtle circling him and the rest of the group. Half an hour passed in the blink of an eye, and then we were off again, sailing back down the coast to another destination.

>>>I flashed back to the day before, an entirely different experience:

Our first full day in Barbados, an ease-into-it sort of day. We took the shuttle down to the beach, wandered the boardwalk to soak in the Caribbean view. We took a swim, laughing in the aquamarine waves as we played with the waterproof camera, ducking below in attempts to capture our underwater faces. All too soon we clambered out of the sea and wandered barefoot down the sand to meet AK's grandmother at her rental house right by the next beach over. I marvelled at the hordes of bananaquits flocking to the bowl of sugar hanging on the edge of the porch, and the large black hummingbird flitting in and out.

With our foursome swelled to five, we ambled back down past the beachside bar and onto the sand again. She suggested this beach might have turtles about, but we hardly dared to hope. Once again we slipped into the water, waves crashing over our feet as we waded out toward the reef barrier. A few others played just off the sand, but few ventured out as far as we. A few hundred metres out and the water was still only shoulder deep, a bigger swell lifting us up and off our feet every now and again. And then...there! I was the first to spot a dark head popping up between the ripples. And suddenly it was clear that although a few of the dark shapes visible through the clear water were indeed rocks, several others were moving, young turtles grazing the ocean bottom in this protected bay. I bounced up and down - or as near as one can do under the forces of the ocean - feeling giddy. AK started snorkelling, while his dad and I floated at the surface and tried to follow the turtles as they ate at the bottom and then came up for air at regular intervals. They seemed ambivalent to our presence, mostly continuing their routine. When they moved away concertedly we let them go, watching the dark shape in the clear sea float off towards the reef. The moment felt so special, like a personal experience for just our group. I felt welcomed in by these graceful swimmers, allowed a glimpse into their underwater world. I was reluctant to head in, but knew the two others would be eager to see the turtles too and someone needed to stay on shore with our gear. I sat in the sun, watching happy heads bobbing in the sea.

Finally, with the afternoon waning, we all reconvened on the beach. Feeling wholly welcomed to the Caribbean by one of its most incredible beasts, we enjoyed a fruity drink at the beachside bar, walked back to our home for the week, rinsed our salt-caked bodies, and got ready for dinner. Making plans for the week, we were already talking about another swim with the turtles...



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Today is a quiet Sunday, our plans changed and now a peaceful day at home in the works. The wind is howling with purpose, but I might try for a walk before the rain sets in. What are you up to?

>>> Sarah Britton's life changing bread is resting on the stove before baking. Can't wait to try it.
>>> I also whipped up my full-of-additions (pumpkin seeds, coconut, raw cacao nibs) version of these raw peanut butter cookies.
>>> I may be back in the northern hemisphere, but apparently my mind is still thinking summer, as I contemplate a new pair of sandals.
>>> Need some art inspiration? Check out this amazing piece from Lisa. I'm awed.

oceanside dining...

Back to the point on Tuesday, a breath of fresh air to bring in the new year. The birds were waiting for me. The tide was out when I stepped out of the truck, and I clambered straight out across the rocks with my eye on a great blue heron perched just off the waterline. But to my left another dark shape caught my attention - an immature bald eagle waiting in the driftwood, standing over the carcass of the seal I spotted the other day. I weighed my options - who could I sneak up on first? The heron seemed settled, and I know from experience they can stand for seemingly infinite periods, waiting for a fish to come within the grasp of that long sharp beak. The eagle though, was a flight risk, literally.

Decided, I tucked back along the high tide line, out of sight of the bird of prey for the moment. I stepped from rock to rock, trying to avoid any loud noises that would alert him to my approach. As I came around the curve of the shoreline I spotted his dark head poking up from the driftwood. I ducked down a bit, navigating through the jumble of washed up logs and breakwater boulders until there was nowhere left to hide and I was about 40 feet off. The eagle knew I was there, although it wasn't inclined to acknowledge me in any way. I snapped a few shots. Scooched to the next boulder. Snapped a few more. Other folks out for their New Year's constitutional were noting my progress and politely gave me and the eagle a wide berth. I checked on the heron, down at the water's edge. A woman was ambling toward it, her camera held up to shoot photos. She continued her steady forward progress until the heron upset and flew off down the coast, and I wrinkled my nose. Yes, it could easily be argued she and I were doing the exact same thing. But her clumsy approach had me feeling unjustly superior, and I was disappointed my chance at shooting the heron was gone.

The eagle, though, was unperturbed. I slipped to the next rock, then the next. It let out a squawk and ruffled its feathers, and then surprised me by actually hopping along the driftwood toward me. The dead seal was between us, although much closer to him, and the bird was ready for another meal.  The eagle flapped his wings for balance as it hopped from log to log and then to its prize. I wedged myself between two rocks, a large boulder serving half as blind and half as tripod, and suddenly there was only 20 feet between us. The bird set to work, tearing at the blubber and looking up every few bites to check for other eagles. For the most part it didn't seem concerned with me. After it ate, the eagle perched on a log and wiped his beak clean.

A little old lady came determinedly along the beach, spotting me only as she came up just beside me. It took her a moment to follow my pointing to the feathered beast right in front of us. She smiled, listened politely as I spouted some eagle trivia, and then proceeded on her route along the high tide line. The eagle waited as she closed in, then spread its impressive wingspan and swooped off and away. Content, I unfolded from my own perch and headed down the beach for a walk.

birds of winter...

I couldn't get warm yesterday. A deep chill set into my bones from the moment I got up and wouldn't leave. Even after a hot shower. Ever after I layered myself in a hodgepodge of woolens. My feet warmed up when I put on my new Sorel boots (I think AK was tired of hearing me complain about cold feet), but the rest of me kept shivering. Still, I headed out into the chilly air just the same.

Now is the time for birds. Sure, many of these winged things are here year round, but with the bushes bare and food supplies short, many of them seem more visible. There are the little birds that flit around my house, eagerly snapping up the seed and chattering hello. I lose track of time watching the suet disappear beneath a flock of bushtits, or seeing how close the chickadees will let me get as I climb the stairs outside. And then there are the big migrators, the largest of the bunch the trumpeter swans that infiltrate our valley each winter. The empty farm fields I drive past on my way to work are dotted with their fat white bodies plucking at the last seeds and kernels left after harvest. The skyline is dotted too with their v-shaped journeys, honking as they pass overhead. And there are all manner of in-betweens. The plump Canada geese that suddenly look tiny against the swans. Mallards and mergansers foraging and fishing in the estuary. The massive grey bodies of herons resting on stilt-legs as they do the same. I even spotted the tiny green shape of an Anna's hummingbird, feathers fluffed up to double his size as he sticks out the winter.

And now too, is the time for bald eagles. As we head into the first couple months of the year, their see-all eyes watch from every tree and elevated perch. Conserving energy in this time of little food, they gather in large numbers out along the shores and sometimes do little but sit in a tree all day with 10 of their friends. Yesterday on my beach walk I watched the dark shapes far up each nearby tree. I focused on the nearest bird, halfway up a slope in a ragged, stunted fir, and made my way across the rocks. Suddenly, not 10 feet in front of me, a massive dark shape flew up from the driftwood at the base of the hill and soared off in an arcing circle over my head. A juvenile eagle, blending in to the shore in its mottled brown and white plumage. Still, I shook my head at not noticing this big bird of prey right under my nose. Nearly under foot, too, was the reason for his beach foray - a dead harbour seal, belly already ripped open by those hungry birds. I've witnessed this before, and cursed myself for walking with blinders on and missing another opportunity to watch these majestic birds in action. I found myself a rock a bit down the beach to give them lots of room to return, and hunkered down to wait. The glamourous life of a wannabe wildlife photographer. The clunk of shells hitting the rocks kept me company, seagulls wheeling up to drop oysters and clams and then returning to claim their broke-open meal below. But the eagles sat patiently up in their trees, the deep chill of the rock wasn't helping my already cold bones, and after a good half hour watching a brave gull perch atop the seal I let them be. Maybe another day.

The year is wrapping up tonight, and what a tumultuous one its been. I could use a little quiet in the new year - how 'bout you? I'm not much for resolutions, but I'm attempting to start the year off fresh and clean, eating vegan for the month of January. I don't have any particular beliefs about the whole thing, but think my body could use a reset right now. I did a trial meal last night, a hearty lentil, mushroom & kale shepherd's pie to fight the cold and it was delicious. If you're interested I may share more of my recipes or thoughts on this plan as it goes. But we'll see how I do after a month with no cheese or eggs. Tonight though, there are no rules, and we're heading out for a year end special meal. It'll be a quiet night; dinner, movie, ball drop. And tomorrow I'm sure there will be some fresh air to embrace the new year. Wishing you and yours a happy new year filled with joy and cheer.

then again...

Perhaps Mother Nature took my last post as a bit of a challenge. The snow set in heavy last Sunday night, and we tromped through the blanketed streets of our little town. In the morning the skies had cleared up, but the snow lay thick on the ground. Through the week it mostly rained, but every now and again it shifted into wet snow, never accumulating to much, but keeping the air cold and raw.

It rained through the night on Friday, but as I headed into town on Saturday morning for some last minute Christmas shopping, the rain got thicker and thicker until heavy white flakes dropped soddenly from the sky. Things started to whiten up considerably as I navigated the busy shops to get myself out of the holiday rush as quickly as possible. As I wove the truck back along the estuary road, I had to stop to capture the scene, the quiet welcoming of winter. A walk was definitely in order, winding along the still shore through sloppy white flakes. At home several deer hunkered down in the yard most of the day, leaving behind bare ovals on the grass surrounded by white when they left as darkness came on.

And yesterday, Christmas day. The last remnants of snow on the ground on Christmas Eve got watered down with more heavy rain through the night. The morning woke wet again, grey and green. But as the afternoon wore on, the rain turned white and soon enough the mossy bluffs in front of my parents' home were blanketed. I dragged my mom and AK out for a walk in the last of the day's light, along the slushy road and out to get a misty view across the water. There's some more snow in the forecast to cap off the year and bring us into the new.

Of course if I really want snow around here, I point the truck uphill, up the winding mountain road where the snow piles up on either side high above the vehicles. I took in a little night snowboarding last week, and savoured the morning powder today. We are closing in on a five metre snow base up there, which is ridiculous for December, and the continuing cold temps mean the conditions are wonderfully powdery. My new job this year includes a seasons pass, so fair warning that I might be boring you with snow adventures until April.

I hope you had a wonderful holiday, if you celebrate. And that you're winding up the year with a bit of time for stillness and calm in all this rush. We could all use a little recharge, I think.

wordless wednesday...

there are so many deer photos this fall - they are keeping me busy. i thought i better catch you up over here if you haven't seen them on flickr yet. as always, you can click on any shot for more info. happy wednesday!