Summer seems to be here

Today a little jog from Commercial Drive up to the wild of an unknown neighbourhood and back for a latte. Everything is beautiful when it's sunny.

So this blog started out as a posting of my daily travels - one photo per day. Well, I'm pretty much still taking a picture a day - or more, but I've been neglecting to post them. So here are a few from the last week.


A walk through east side:

A Sunday stroll

Italian Days: the sun is out, the throngs are making their way up and down the Drive to the back drop of a pretty good Volaré rendition.


Lurking in the back alleys, though, remains the Drive we know and love so well.

Friday

Still cold, but we went for a walk.

Early to bed

Babysitting has me pretty tired - though I haven't been babysitting a baby. I've been babysitting Echo. She's had a few lumps removed and her stitches need to stay in place. On top of that she's come down with some sort of canine gastric disorder, which requires frequent trips to the outdoors in the middle of the night. I'm so sleepy. I'm going to bed with a good book:

Altercation with a rose

Meddle with a rose at your peril - she'll take her claws to you and shred you.

Wisteria lane

Thanks to the housewives of Wisteria Lane, or some such, the wisteria has become associated with hysteria and soap opera goings on. But it's a beautiful vine and it smells as beautiful as it looks.

Monday

Well I ran into a bit of a brick wall. For some reason I was disallowed access to my little blog. But I'm back and here are the photos from the last few days.

A trip out to the country

Do you think this little donkey knows he/she is cute? I think so.

To market, to market

It was one of those rainy days where people skitter from awning to awning - jumping puddles and trying to fend off bone coldness. Seems a little sad for the end of May. And so, my planned cycle to Granville Island was cancelled and I drove instead. The market was filled with wonders, none the less.

Recovering

Home today with a subdued hound. Poor creature, her tummy's a wreckage of sutures. And she has the cone to put up with when I'm not able to supervise.

Making chicken stock - a great activity for two homebound gals.

Not a slug

Well, yes, this is a slug. A big black one. But today I am not a slug. Got my work done early so I could venture out for a run in the forest, a strudel on Main and an afternoon of sheezering.

Another brick in the road

Aside from the metaphor of a brick wall, these bricks are extremely meaningful to me. They're the last remains of the brick used to pave Vancouver streets many years ago. They are exposed on only a few Vancouver streets, most notably in Gastown. But that little stretch of Victoria between Powell and Hastings is also paved in red - it's a street where my father worked, at Terminal City Iron works. These bricks will always remind me of him.

Slow progress

This baby sea gull doesn't seem to understand, at all, the slowness of my writing process.

Garden growning

Today: a little writing, a little running; a little digging.

Mr and Mrs Sparrow

A flurry of feathers today at Canada Place as I shared my madeleine with a couple of sparrows. The girl was a little swifter than the boy, but he - sporting his brown sideburns- looks pretty well fed as well.

Keeping up is hard to do

As string of grey days - not very inspiring for taking pictures. But the sun is out and so are the apple blossoms. Looking forward to apple crisp.

OK then

Well, this isn't good. Two blog postings drafts were lost. - Not that they were earth shattering, not even good. Though yesterday, as I was feeling a little blue, I decided to put down three everyday things that made me happy and that I am lucky to have. Let's see if I can remember what they were.

Sirius Radio channel 4 - Music of the forties

A daily hot shower

and the third? hmmm. a good book? a lovely coffee scooper?

What does JJ Lee call them? Pocket luxuries. I love that concept.

Clothes line dreams

Today, despite grey skies, I hung out the laundry to dry - white sheets snapping in the wind like sails. There's something comforting about that solid sound. Brought them in after a few hours and folded them, the scent of outdoors caught up in them.

Mother's Day

Breakfast in bed is not a tradition in our house. For many years now, I've been up and running - one of the many hitting the trails in the Pacific Spirit Run. But that run is no more. How sad. But I still went out for a quick run in the hood followed by a cafe latte at Calabria.

Spot the prawn

Took part in this year's spot prawn festival. I love those little sea critters. I must have more - and I will - tomorrow for mother's day.

I say heritage, you say heritage

Anyway you say it, it's a heritage tomato. But from whence does it come?

...but I still love you.

When I saw this, for some reason, it struck me as sad. It conjured up all kinds of scenarios, unrequited love, adultery, cruelty - who knows.


But then I found the beginning of the sentence and it just didn't fit for me. I wanted it to read something like, "You're gone, but I still love you," or "You don't love me, but I still love you," or "You treated me badly, but I still love you." That's what I wanted. But the reality is completely different from what I imagined - yet again.

Signs of spring

Smelling campy

A run out to UBC to share in a feast. A beautiful day on the urban farm - it's not every day city that folk get to sit around an open fire. Spent the rest of the day walking around in a waft of smokiness.

Momiji

The Momiji garden was created to remember the Japanese people who were forced to live on the PNE grounds during the internment. Sad that this happened here.

Standing on guard

This may look like a coyote - but it's not. It's a crafty copy meant to scare the geese that feast on grain spilled on the railroad track.

At liberty

Had to do a little sleuthing to find this blouse that I tried on at the Waldorf vintage sale, but didn't buy. On an off chance I contacted the Waldorf who passed along my request. So, like some kind of clandestine exchange, I met the vendor, handed over the cash and fled with my Liberty of London silk blouse.

One wedding and a funeral

Reports indicate that all kinds of people were up at 2:00 am to watch the royal wedding. I was not among them, but I did do a little online voyeurism when I got up. The bride was lovely, the groom was handsome, and I wish them well.

On more of a personal, local level, there was a funeral to attend. A women who lived to the age of 84, had four children and always maintained a strong interest in the things around her. Her funeral was a celebration, really, in a true sense, because it brought together so many of the people in her life, from all corners. Though, she'll be missed, I know that she would be happy seeing all the people who came to pay tribute to her and all the affection they have for her and for each other. It was a funeral that left me with a warm heart - in much the way a wedding can do.

Spot the asparagus

Well, so far, three little asparagus spears poking through. I was hoping for a large and hearty crop. Yet to come, maybe?

Said the whale

Nevermore


















I paid a visit to the gift shop at the aquarium today. They used to have lovely souvenirs there. But no more. The whale, however, is as impressive as ever.

Alley cat

Todays run was dedicated to alley ways. They never dissapoint:














Do you see Betty Boop in this ceramic thing or is it me?

A while puffy skirt

After seeing Dress me up in your love and Bill Cunningham New York my mind seems to be focused on clothing. When I saw these flouncy flowers I thought of silk blouses or full rustling skirts, fresh green scarves....

Bill

You'd think on a day when I saw Bill Cunningham New York I'd be able to come up with an inspired picture - not the case.

Time got away from me. First an early morning run in the endowment lands followed by the usual stellar strudel.

Then some serious weed warfare - don't worry, no chemical weapons used - just a shovel.

The afternoon sped by with the usual laundry sorting, writing attempts, emails, and I'm ashamed to admit social media.

But the highlight today - even greater than the greatest strudel on earth - was a movie about the most important man on earth, Bill Cunningham. 80 years old and still in love with fashion, cycling around New York snapping photos of stylish women on the street. I think I'm inspired to add a little more individuality in my own style that I try so hard to keep to muted tastefulness. Muted no more! (now and then, perhaps)

Sunny days are meant for 80s music

I'm glad I wore my gloves this morning as I rode my bike to salsa class - a little nip in the air, sort of like sharp, little puppy teeth biting at my skin.