tangent...

I stepped away from the needle and thread today, from the knitting pins and spools of wool, the reams of fabric. Today I tried something completely new.

I have been interested in working with metal for some time. More recently, I have been wowed by artisans like Jillian and Kelly and so many others. On a whim I signed up for a one day class, Metalsmith for Beginners, and showed up this morning with an eager glint in my eyes. We played with copper, bronze and silver. We learned sawing, hammering, texturing, drilling and riveting...so much to absorb. I was a little sad we didn't get to try any soldering, but understood the time and space were limiting. And I came out at the end of the day with two pieces worked from my own shaky hands, a pair of earrings and a...let's say very "organic" ring (organic means wonky and uneven, just if we're being honest). Feeling pretty happy about the day.

There are many who would argue that the last thing I need is another hobby, but I'd really like to play with this medium more, whether on its own or incorporating it into my other work. Lots to experiment with, to be sure. I'm already considering taking a private soldering lesson with the instructor. Sorry AK and Ty - yet something else to keep me from paying attention to you. ;)

Have you learned anything new recently?

wordless wednesday...

small update...

My apologies for not posting much recently. Honestly, I guess I haven't had much to say. This too will just be a short post to let you know there are two new beasts in the shop - another green sea turtle and a new take on a giant pacific octopus - this one is covered in logwood dyed cotton gauze, overlaid with hundreds of stitches for added texture. I love to make the octopuses, but they are a lot of work when stitched entirely by hand (all those legs!).

I'm hoping to get a whale or two done this week, so if you have been waiting on them keep an eye out next weekend!

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Heading up this afternoon to take in one more snow day as the mountain season finishes. A friend and I are going snowshoeing, and give Ty is first taste of the white stuff. Then we'll watch crazy people in costume ski into a frigid pool for the annual "slush cup". Brrrr, but enjoyable to watch! Here's hoping you've had a wonderful weekend!

wordless wednesday...

in bloom...

It starts small, literally. Still stomping the trails in hardy boots, head and hands wrapped up against the biting wind, you start to notice small green shoots unfurling amongst the mud and last year's dead leaves. It starts slow too, and can't help but anxiously await the first little flower buds. Then one day they are there - small snowdrops in clusters out in the woods and on lawns, bowing under the still cold breeze on grey March days. The first bright yellow glow of swamp lanterns thrusting up from the boggy areas lights up the woods. And you know - spring has well and truly started.

Suddenly it's everywhere - vibrant green nubs on each branch, pink salmonberry stars, a carpet of green on the forest floor followed by trilliums, fawn lilies, bleeding hearts. Each yard including yours boasts a clutch or two of daffodils and tiny grape hyacinths. The magnolias, unable to hold themselves back any longer, unleash an explosion of petals. The streets are lined with cherry trees littering blossoms that swirl and dance in the breeze of each passing car. You find yourself walking the trails in sandals and a light sweater, hands and face open to the sun. Everywhere the birds are singing and flirting, even more thrilled than you about this change in the weather. Spring has sprung.

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After a small string of glorious days, the rain moved back in today and the world feels a bit grey. It's milder though, without the determined chill of a winter day. A few things going on on the interwebs:
>> A recipe of mine made it into the new Hollyhock cookbook. Even without that bit of luck, I would totally recommend this book for healthy, seasonal recipes. I just made the whole wheat chia bread and it's awesome!
>> The weather might be warming up, but a squishy cowl like this makes me wish for a few more chilly days.
>> Once those lovely daffodils start to fade on the front lawn, I think I'll gather up the wilting petals to make a dye bath and if I'm lucky I'll get buttery yellows like these from Clarabella.

How's your week?

to the beach!

My camera is feeling a bit neglected these days. When I picked it up to take these photos, I realized it had been 12 days since I'd last clicked its shutter. That's depressing. But I guess that's what happens when a four-legged companion now trots along beside on all my walks. A smart-but-still-learning pup who needs a bit of leash attention, especially as he's bit anxious in the presence of other dogs (understandable given his history). You can pretty much guarantee that if I stop to take a photo an off-leash dog will come racing up out of nowhere, often with an inattentive owner far behind. Quick shots with my phone have been all I can muster lately.

So it was nice to get out with both my boys the other evening, an opportunity for me to tag along with camera in hand while they explored the shore. Ty's first real trip to the beach with us, in fact, and he loved it. There were a few stretches of sand where he could race back and forth, and eagerly eye the hundreds of seagulls still feasting on herring eggs out in the strait. The weather has been beautiful for the most part this past week, and the coming long weekend looks promising indeed. Here's wishing you a fantastic weekend, and here's hoping I get out with my camera a little.

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With flowers blooming all over town and temperatures creeping up, there's no denying it any longer - welcome spring! I'm doing a little clearout over in the shop - pop over for 25% off with the code SPRINGCLEAN.

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!

my boy...

I'm terribly behind with posting. I still have lots of photos from our trip I'd like to share. There's been a fair bit of exploring around here too. And - whoa - even a little crafting here and there. But in the last couple days somebody new has entered our lives and is snuggling his way to a fair bit of my attention.

Meet Ty.

AK and I have wanted a dog for a long time. For years we have lived in places where that wasn't possible, but last fall when we moved into this house that was part of the appeal - we could finally have a pup of our own. We weren't in a rush though, wanting to find the right fit for us. And last week things came together and that fit is Ty.

He's a rescue dog that had a bit of a rough start in life - if you look closely at the photo you can probably see he's still bearing some physical evidence of his trials. They will all heal in time.  He's now about 1.5 - two years old, and doesn't have as much training as one might hope for that age. But, he's a fast learner, and already a near-star at many tasks. He's generally pretty mellow, and did I mention he's all about the snuggles? We just got back from our morning walk and he's currently tucked up against me, fast asleep. I'm still learning how to balance life with him in it (not to mention a camera in one hand and leash in the other), but we'll figure it out. Tomorrow is the first big trial, with both us humans going to work all day, although I plan to come home at lunch. Once he gets settled though, and figures out this is his forever home, I think we're going to make a real good team. As long as we can agree that wildlife are for watching, not chasing... ;)

between the downpours...

Each time I passed the the kitchen window in my wanders through the house, what I already knew was confirmed by a quick glance at the puddle where the driveway meets the street: it was raining. Not just a few drops here and there, but a steady drumbeat keeping the muddy pool topped up. From the couch I can see it coming down like a sheet. Argh.

And then suddenly, after the rain seems at its heaviest, there is a lull. I go to the window to make sure, and the driveway puddle is curiously still. I wait, poking my head out the door and pacing back and forth. It seems to be holding, at least for the next few minutes, and I decide to take my chances. Layered up with a gore-tex topper and my trusty bean boots, I grab my camera bag and head straight for the beach. This pause in the rain has coincided nicely with the low tide, and the shore stretches out before me under a grey sky. The driftwood over small rocks at the high tide line moves into larger boulders covered in barnacles and slime, and finally sand spreads out just at the waterline. I amble between the rocky pools and sand, looking for critters and things left behind. Every once in awhile I pause to scan the horizon and the hillside, noting a few eagles perched high in the trees and the sheets of rain still moving out across the water. A sprinkling of drops finds me every now and again, but a real downpour holds off, for the moment.

I have spotted a starfish or two clutching a rock, waiting for the water to return, but then suddenly I'm out on a larger expanse of sand and they're everywhere. Piled together in large clumps, the ochre stars have decided space is overrated and are waiting out the low tide with a crowd of friends. The whelks are everywhere too, and seem to be embracing spring already, having laid little eggs that now cling to rocks and abandoned clam shells. Occasionally there is a bright orange whelk, a sunspot shining bright in this grey day, grey landscape. I look but so far there are no signs of herring eggs washing ashore, clinging to every bit of seaweed. No signs of sea lions feasting on the eggs and herring off shore either. Soon, perhaps within a few a days. The fishing great blue heron will have none of me today, flying off when I am still far away.

When I can deny the call of 'real life' no longer, I amble back to the truck along the high tide line. On my way home I stop to pick the first batch of stinging nettles for the season. As I make my way down the dirt path I wryly watch a young couple, the woman's belly swelling, head out to the beach with a photographer for a maternity shoot, just a little needles of hail start coming down. I tuck my head down and pick a dinner's worth of the tender but prickly shoots, then get back to the truck before I'm fully soaked. The grey days are still here, but if you look closely around the edges, in the tiny greens that are poking up through the muddy earth, spring is on its way. But it takes a lot of rain to get there.

long time coming...

I started these socks for AK last April, and they've been abandoned many times in favour of the lure of new and shiny (okay, rarely shiny - which is too bad, come to think of it) projects. But finally this past week I managed to finish them up. Squishy cables in buttery soft Malabrigo, I hope they will keep his toes warm as we finish off the winter - and for many winters to come! I do love a handknit sock, but I must admit all those tiny stitches can be spirit-killing sometimes. Thankfully, the end result is usually worth it. Are you knitting anything these days?

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The rain was heavy today, but it finally let up just enough this afternoon to head out for a walk, in good timing with the low tide. I wandered the sand and rocks, watched spouts of seawater shoot high when i stepped beside clam holes, marvelled at massive clusters of ochre stars, and stalked a great blue heron. on my way home I stopped for my first stinging nettle harvest of the year, just as hail set in. A fresh bagful of spring greens accompanied me home, and I'm thinking a quiche is in order. Please come back tomorrow for some photos.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend.

wordless wednesday...

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.

[almost] wordless wednesday

We're back! I've got lots of photos to share soon but just wanted to pop in quickly and say hello. Hope you've all had a good week

sunset...

The days are creeping, the light taking just a little longer to fade from the sky.  A walk after work, in the daylight, is becoming a bit more common, a chance for an exhalation at the end of the day. I walked the quiet streets down to the marina to catch the glowing sky over the mountains. The quiet descent into evening on calm seas is interrupted only by the jingle of a cat bell, a fluffy boating feline who lets me give it a quick pet before continuing its twilight rounds. I head out onto the pier to see the orange sunset streaks reflected in the bay. I'm busy shooting, and don't turn at the sound of feet on the wood planks behind me, assuming just another evening walker. But a soft voice lets me know AK has wandered down to join me, and we talk quietly as we navigate the length of the pier. A peaceful moment just the two of us, watching the flush over the snowy island peaks. Flocks of gulls fly overhead, heading to their night roosts. An exhale of breath alerts us to a seal popping up, maybe enjoying the view too. We turn and head home. Another winter's day settles in to night, just a smidge longer than the one before.

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No walks this evening; we're heading out on an overnight flight to the tropics. One of those spots where the sun sets faithfully each night at the same time, with little seasonal shift. I always find that so weird, being in a summery environment and yet the sun dips below the horizon quite early, not like long summer nights up here. Wishing you all a great week and we'll catch up sometime in the next one, okay?

alpine morning...

The Subaru shifts low, working to climb the steepening hill and out of the fog in the valley bottom. I peer through the passenger window at...not much at all, glad I'm not driving as the winding route disappears into the mists. Gradually, slowly, there is a lightening ahead. The fog develops pale blue patches, hints of a clearing to come. The nose of the wagon points forever up, and then we emerge above the clouds into a sparkling winterland.

There hasn't been much snowfall in recent days; December's five metres condensed and settled to a respectable three. The trees cling to a few threatening snow mushrooms that shake off without warning, but mostly the firs and pines thrust skyward in their evergreen hue. Out of the car we remark on the mild temperature, and plans for thick layers get left on the back seat. The air is clear and clean, but not crisp; it feels like April, not the last day of January. The quiet of Thursday on the mountain means everyone is relaxed, not caught up in the bustle of weekend crowds. Under a saturated blue sky we head out from the lodge, crusty snow crunching under our snowshoes as we follow the well-worn path.   The sound overrides the peace of an alpine walk, but it's still a pleasant sound of purpose as we wind our way through the alpine meadows and between stands of shaggy trees. The wide flats mark lakes covered in a sturdy layer of ice and snow. I notice spots that I recognize, where the winter trail rides directly on top of summer's boardwalk, and I contemplate how much snow separates the two. Nordic skiers whizz past on the set trails under a blinding sun, and I think "I should do that more often." But not today.

Before long we are climbing back up the gentle slope to the lodge, exchanging our snowshoes for a casual seat and a hearty lunch. There is more to do this afternoon, but for now a belly full and a mountain view feels pretty good.