Heidi Greco's Blog, page 18

Countdown...

...to decision time for the future of the Hazelmere Valley, an area the City of Surrey has casually renamed South Campbell Heights. 

Here I'd thought renaming was exclusively the domain of settlers who determined that English names were better than the names given to places by the Indigenous peoples who'd lived here for centuries. 

The current renaming practice is more a matter of hiding what's actually at stake -- in this case, a small forest, some farmland, a river, and an aquifer. 

If you haven't already seen it, here's a video that offers a few reasons for protecting the area, reasons that are only becoming more critical by the day as we move inexorably toward climate disaster.

Cheery thoughts for a Monday, eh. Friday morning will be the time of reckoning, when Metro Vancouver Regional Board determines whether they will move the Urban Containment Boundary, a protective element that is part of their Metro 2040 vision for the region. 

Here's hoping that sanity (and thoughts for the future) prevail. 

Travels missed, travels found

Today is just about the midpoint of what was supposed to be a holiday on the beach in Cuba. But no, that had to be cancelled, owing to the O-word.  

To console myself, I tried to pretend -- even went so far as to turn on a sunlamp to 'tan' my winter-white, dry-skin legs. 

Best consolation though was where I usually find it: in one of the books I'd planned to take along. 

The title, The Body on the Beach, sounds as though it might be a bit grisly as holiday reading, but no, that wasn't the case. For one thing, the beach in question was about as far from Varadero as one could get while still being on the Atlantic Ocean: Harbour Grace, Newfoundland. 

As it happens, that's a town I've visited more than once, as it played into the research I did for Flightpaths, my book about Amelia Earhart. But this 'visit' is during the 1920s, the era when Model T cars were still relatively new. 

It's hard to pigeon-hole this novel as any single genre, as it qualifies not only as detective story with questions that range at first from who was it that died, to a series of increasing challenges regarding the details of that death (how and why being foremost, though there's definitely a whodunnit aspect as well). 

But that isn't all it is, as it's also a love story -- about the love a man has for a woman from his past as well as a growing romance in his here-and-now. 

All of this is complicated (in a good way) by the many historical details author Patrick J. Collins has layered into the book. The biggest of these, and the one that causes the most tension is Prohibition. Being a port town, one that engages in shipping both to and from the US (remember, at this time, Newfoundland was not yet part of Canada, but its own independent dominion), Harbour Grace's location makes it convenient for would-be smugglers. 

Even though now and then I'd get a little lost in the crowd of so many characters, the book kept me engaged enough to not fret too much about a missed opportunity for travel. In fact, it allowed me some of the best travels of all, those travels we take via the mind. 

Merry Christmas, reboot

Today's the day that many people around the world celebrate Orthodox Christmas. We're among them, though we do so in a smaller way than on December 25th. 

It's easy enough to get in the mood, especially with so much of our local world looking like a Christmas card. The photo is one I took while we were out for a walk in our neighbourhood. 

Often, it turns out that the last week of December will be cold here. But this year, that cold spell has extended well into the new year, and managed to break a number of temperature (and snow depth) records along the way. 

I'm mostly grateful that today's Christmas celebration will be much lower key than that other one. No one's coming over to open gifts (there aren't any), and there won't be a turkey in the oven, not even a fresh batch of butter tarts. Though on second thought, I may have to rethink that last bit. 

Here's to a brighter year!

No parties for us this year. No decorations, no fire in the chiminea. Not even bottle rockets here. 

Some of the neighbours put on an exciting fireworks display, so at least there was a great excuse to holler and hoot a few times. 

As for us, it was mostly a matter of a few sparklers tucked into the snow pile. Nonetheless, a bright light to shine for a few precious minutes. Hoping that they point toward a much brighter year.  

One brave little soul

While my last post was partly about Glorious Birds, today's note concerns an altogether different but nonetheless glorious-in-its-own-way bird.

We're in the midst of a very cold spell, one that's very unusual for where we live. Last time I checked, the thermometer read minus ten. That's Celsius; in Fahrenheit it's 14. 

So when our brave little hummingbird came to the feeder, we worried the liquid would likely freeze. Sure enough, when we brought it in, ice crystals were already starting to form. But then the Dear Man came up with one of his brilliant ideas -- the lamp base from the lava light appeared to be just the right size to hold the feeder. So it, combined with a tiny pie tin (with a few holes punched into it), has turned into a warm spot for the hummer to spend an extended dinner visit. 

And wouldn't you know -- the way serendipity seems so often to play a role in my life -- right now I am finishing a novel that features a group some refer to as Hummers. They're nothing at all like the oversized motor car by that name, but I guess to find out more, you might just have to read the book yourself. 

A golden anniversary

Fifty years. Yikes. How does a charming little movie get to be 50 and still have any kind of presence. 

Endurance, I guess.

According to most sources, Harold and Maude was released on December 20, 1971, although apparently there was a kerfuffle on the 7th of this month when a number of sources claimed that as its anniversary. 

Rude of me, I suppose, but I'm stickin' with today as the date for the observance. After all, I wrote the book on it. Okay, not the only book (so I can't really call it 'the book'), but I did a lot of research in my attempts to be accurate. And my book, Glorious Birds came out earlier this year, closer to the Spring Equinox than to the Winter Solstice. 

I can't help but think the beginning of winter is an appropriate time for the film to have been released, as the plot of it certainly moves from darkness to light. But because I don't want to reveal any spoilers, I'll keep the rest of my comments to myself, at least for now. 

Wintry salad

No doubt you've heard of Urban Farming, where people plant vegies in their yard rather than keeping the mostly pointless notion of lawn -- you can't eat grass. There's even an offshoot of this movement -- called, not unexpectedly, Suburban Farming. 

We don't go as far as using either of these labels, and we haven't considered adding chickens or goats to the mix, but we do grow some of our own food when the weather agrees. 

Our most bountiful crops are blackberries and quince, along with beans and salady greens. But we also harvest raspberries and plums, and even took delight this year in 12 tree-grown peaches. Yum!

However, this December, my brilliant partner has taken the notion of home-grown one step further: you might have to call it Indoor Farming. Obviously, our little set-up isn't anything like the vertical farming models that are easy to find on the Internet, nor is it hydroponic, as our plants grow in soil. 

But truly, whether it's a few leafy greens added to a sandwich, or just a sample torn off as I walk by 'their' window, I take delight in being able to eat food that we've grown, often when it's only seconds 'off the vine', all the while looking outside on weather that's clearly December, and mighty wintry. 

Yep!

Snow happens. And I guess I was right about thinking that change was about to happen.

This eerily blue image is how the world looked from the front door just after 8 this morning -- in other words, only a few minutes after sunrise, which just keeps getting later and later. 

This is the time of year that makes me wonder whether the people who seem to want Daylight Saving Time to be in effect forever whether they've thought about what mornings will be like. Dark. The sun won't come up until 9. Ugh. Hibernation well become the next new norm. 

This also happens to be the day when many observe the Feast of St Nicholas. When I was a kid, and even brattier than I am now, I convinced our mother that we deserved candies and other small stocking-type treats on this date. I suspect the reason she relented was solely because the day was named after a saint. Those kinds of arguments worked more than once on my behalf. Yep. Bratty could have been my middle name. 

As for this morning's snow, it was very wet and heavy and dragged down part of the bamboo 'trees' that provide such nice privacy from our neighbour. Here's hoping that a 'splint' job will help it to stand tall again. 

The big shift

I'm in the habit of having a couple of fresh flowers on the ledge above the kitchen sink. Lately, this little wish of mine has become a little harder to fulfill, as nearly all of the flowers in the garden have come and been. About the only reliable blooms that remain are the little white four-stars (my name for them) that cling to the leggy ends of the arugula -- a hardy plant that's still making contributions to our salads. 

But yes, this morning there was one bedraggled nasturtium in the pot out front -- and where the temps are finally getting frosty, I figured I'd better snip it and enjoy it for the bright spot of colour it provides. 

The weather predictions include the possibility of some snow, which is likely better news for many than the streams of heavy rains we've been experiencing here in BC. Even though I'm never thrilled to have a big dump of the white stuff, even someone as grumpy as I can be admits that the first bits of it can be awfully pretty. 

Whatever the next while may bring, it's clear that the big shift into winter is upon us. 

Looks like they're back

                 

...the elves, that is. 

My office has once again been taken over by a couple of crafty types who enjoy making Christmas cards (even though some of those greetings go out to people who don't celebrate that particular holiday). 

It's always kind of a crazy mess, with stamps and stickers and all kinds of assorted papers and pencil crayons and whew! But amazingly, quite a few lovely cards are the result, and all of those go to special friends and family members. 

We've been doing this for quite a few years now -- maybe more than a decade -- but those first few stabs at making something are always a challenge. 

And now it seems, just as I am once again getting the hang of being 'creative' tomorrow will be the day we pack it all up and put it away until next year.