This makes me melt.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Garden update: theft and delight
Two things happened with my garden this week. One made me mad. One made me happy.
Here's how it all transpired:
Garden theft
After watching my garden thrive, watering it diligently and pruning it like pruning were a religion, I was eager to fetch some more lettuce this week. The lettuce has been growing wildly. Every time I see it, I ask myself: Did I really make that grow?
I can't take all the credit. I think Mother Nature had something to do with it.
So when M and I stopped by our plot to water and pick a few crispy green leaves, we were shocked to see that our lettuce had been hacked at the stem and stolen! Gasp!
"Someone actually stole our lettuce!" I said. Part dumbfounded, part amused.
Our previously vibrant green was nothing but a mere stem with a few curly greens.
We made a sign for the dirty scoundrels.
Garden delight
Lucky for us, aside from the Lettuce Thief who put a slight damper on our day, Gary (our garden) was yielding lots of other, un-stolen goodies! We pulled up a carrot, washed it off, and crunched down (delicious!)
and we harvested 10 or so juicy strawberries which made for a great breakfast treat with some yogurt and granola the next morning.
And, after all this harvesting, my thumb was literally green!
How about that?
Here's how it all transpired:
Garden theft
After watching my garden thrive, watering it diligently and pruning it like pruning were a religion, I was eager to fetch some more lettuce this week. The lettuce has been growing wildly. Every time I see it, I ask myself: Did I really make that grow?
I can't take all the credit. I think Mother Nature had something to do with it.
So when M and I stopped by our plot to water and pick a few crispy green leaves, we were shocked to see that our lettuce had been hacked at the stem and stolen! Gasp!
"Someone actually stole our lettuce!" I said. Part dumbfounded, part amused.
Our previously vibrant green was nothing but a mere stem with a few curly greens.
We made a sign for the dirty scoundrels.
Garden delight
Lucky for us, aside from the Lettuce Thief who put a slight damper on our day, Gary (our garden) was yielding lots of other, un-stolen goodies! We pulled up a carrot, washed it off, and crunched down (delicious!)
and we harvested 10 or so juicy strawberries which made for a great breakfast treat with some yogurt and granola the next morning. 
And, after all this harvesting, my thumb was literally green!
How about that?
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Brothers Creek
With the sun shining bright and the sky a deep sea blue, the weather was ripe for a little hike.
So we headed to the North Shore and a trail we've never done before called the Brothers Creek Loop.
7 kms of forested beauty.
We had to drive up through the British Properties (where all the richest of the rich live) in West Vancouver, and parked our little beat-up Hyundai with the cracked windshield and bird-poop-stained doors on the curb alongside a multi-million dollar home. I'm sure they appreciated that!
Harley led the way onto the trail which started as a steep gravel ascent. We huffed and puffed our way through it ... it's been a year since I last hiked steeply, so it was a test of endurance and of bravery. I'm in a constant state of fear of re-injuring my back so I was slow and cautious.
The trails edges were thick with dense forest. Lots of old firs. Lots of green foliage.Beautiful "nurse" trees rich with history. And, when we stopped for a break at the crest of the first hill and just listened, all we hear were a few birds singing, a couple of chipmunks chattering, and the sweet sound of nothing else but the wind in the trees.
As we trudged forth, Harley was in a constant state of seeking water. We had plenty with us and offered it to her often (it's hard being big and brown on a hot, sunny day). But she didn't want our water in a bowl. She was roughing it. And was adamant that every lap of water would be from a creek, a puddle, an almost-dry riverbed, a swampy hollow, etc.
She would run ahead, locate water, lap it up, and sit in it for a minute – max – then carry forth when we caught up.
3.7 kms in, we reached Brother's Creek, a cool, crisp low-rise stream rolling underneath a tattered wooden bridge. It was something out of the Brother's Grimm. We half expected a troll to greet us as we descended below the bridge and onto the rocks for a creekside lunch.
The way back to the car was dotted with obscure signs and moments of panic that maybe, just maybe, we were lost.
Good news: we were never lost. Bad news: we didn't know that until we got to the car.
Memories of our first hike together 4 years ago on Mount Hollyburn where we spent double the time trying to find our way out and fearing for our lives played over and over.
"Remember on Hollyburn where we got lost?" M asked.
I chuckled.
So did he, uneasily.
It was funny after the fact. But as the Brother's Creek trail got slimmer and slimmer and the orange trail markers on the trees became fewer and farther between, we both secretly had lumps in our throats. Were we going the right direction?
Luckily, we were and we made it back to the car and the land of teh living 3 hours later with sweat on our brows and love in our hearts.
So we headed to the North Shore and a trail we've never done before called the Brothers Creek Loop.
7 kms of forested beauty.
We had to drive up through the British Properties (where all the richest of the rich live) in West Vancouver, and parked our little beat-up Hyundai with the cracked windshield and bird-poop-stained doors on the curb alongside a multi-million dollar home. I'm sure they appreciated that!
Harley led the way onto the trail which started as a steep gravel ascent. We huffed and puffed our way through it ... it's been a year since I last hiked steeply, so it was a test of endurance and of bravery. I'm in a constant state of fear of re-injuring my back so I was slow and cautious.
The trails edges were thick with dense forest. Lots of old firs. Lots of green foliage.Beautiful "nurse" trees rich with history. And, when we stopped for a break at the crest of the first hill and just listened, all we hear were a few birds singing, a couple of chipmunks chattering, and the sweet sound of nothing else but the wind in the trees.
As we trudged forth, Harley was in a constant state of seeking water. We had plenty with us and offered it to her often (it's hard being big and brown on a hot, sunny day). But she didn't want our water in a bowl. She was roughing it. And was adamant that every lap of water would be from a creek, a puddle, an almost-dry riverbed, a swampy hollow, etc.
She would run ahead, locate water, lap it up, and sit in it for a minute – max – then carry forth when we caught up.
3.7 kms in, we reached Brother's Creek, a cool, crisp low-rise stream rolling underneath a tattered wooden bridge. It was something out of the Brother's Grimm. We half expected a troll to greet us as we descended below the bridge and onto the rocks for a creekside lunch.
The way back to the car was dotted with obscure signs and moments of panic that maybe, just maybe, we were lost.
Good news: we were never lost. Bad news: we didn't know that until we got to the car.
Memories of our first hike together 4 years ago on Mount Hollyburn where we spent double the time trying to find our way out and fearing for our lives played over and over.
"Remember on Hollyburn where we got lost?" M asked.
I chuckled.
So did he, uneasily.
It was funny after the fact. But as the Brother's Creek trail got slimmer and slimmer and the orange trail markers on the trees became fewer and farther between, we both secretly had lumps in our throats. Were we going the right direction?
Luckily, we were and we made it back to the car and the land of teh living 3 hours later with sweat on our brows and love in our hearts.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Lovely lettuce!
My garden, finally, is yielding food.
Today I picked a variety of lettuces. So much lettuce. Bags full of lettuce! And it was thrilling to the soul.
Not just because I love a good, crisp salad on a hot day.
And not just because I've been watering this little plot every day and waiting with child-like anticipation for it to bear the fruits of my labour.
No, not just that.
It was thrilling because last year it was not at all thrilling.
Last year, a crow made a nest out of the beans I forgot to water. The one tomato that actually grew was stolen. The herbs were brown. The cucumbers wilted. I overheard a stranger call my plot "The Garden of Doom." I was a green-thumb-wannabe with a brown, uneducated thumb.
So I cried a little.
Bought a "How to garden" book.
And set to work.
By the time Spring rolled around in 2010, my thumb felt slightly greener, my commitment to nurturing was stronger, and I had a vision (and, much to my own surprise, a hand-drawn map of how my garden would be planted.)
Of course, on the day I started planting, it was obvious that I was about 2 months behind the other, more serious green thumbs in our little garden community. I had flashbacks of the cawing crow that I shooed away from last years dried up bean crop. "Garden of Doom" repeated over and over in my head. I thought: "Maybe this is wasted effort."
But, still, I carried forth.
I planted.
I watered.
I monitored.
I even named our garden (Gary, by the way.)
And the more love I gave, the more Gary grew.
"Wow, looks great!" said a passerby on week two.
"Those strawberries are going to be plump!" said a fellow gardener last week.
"Can I take a picture?" asked a tourist.
My head started to swell with my new found garden fame.
And I liked it.
And so, today, Gary gladly let me pick the leaves of some healthy, strong, and scrumptious lettuces.
I made a mesclun mix for M and I, and more bags for our friends.
Lettuce lettuce everywhere!
And I am so happy!!!
Come over for a salad.
It's delightful.
Today I picked a variety of lettuces. So much lettuce. Bags full of lettuce! And it was thrilling to the soul.
Not just because I love a good, crisp salad on a hot day.
And not just because I've been watering this little plot every day and waiting with child-like anticipation for it to bear the fruits of my labour.
No, not just that.
It was thrilling because last year it was not at all thrilling.
Last year, a crow made a nest out of the beans I forgot to water. The one tomato that actually grew was stolen. The herbs were brown. The cucumbers wilted. I overheard a stranger call my plot "The Garden of Doom." I was a green-thumb-wannabe with a brown, uneducated thumb.
So I cried a little.
Bought a "How to garden" book.
And set to work.
By the time Spring rolled around in 2010, my thumb felt slightly greener, my commitment to nurturing was stronger, and I had a vision (and, much to my own surprise, a hand-drawn map of how my garden would be planted.)
Of course, on the day I started planting, it was obvious that I was about 2 months behind the other, more serious green thumbs in our little garden community. I had flashbacks of the cawing crow that I shooed away from last years dried up bean crop. "Garden of Doom" repeated over and over in my head. I thought: "Maybe this is wasted effort."
But, still, I carried forth.
I planted.
I watered.
I monitored.
I even named our garden (Gary, by the way.)
And the more love I gave, the more Gary grew.
"Wow, looks great!" said a passerby on week two.
"Those strawberries are going to be plump!" said a fellow gardener last week.
"Can I take a picture?" asked a tourist.
My head started to swell with my new found garden fame.
And I liked it.
And so, today, Gary gladly let me pick the leaves of some healthy, strong, and scrumptious lettuces.
I made a mesclun mix for M and I, and more bags for our friends.
Lettuce lettuce everywhere!
And I am so happy!!!
Come over for a salad.
It's delightful.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
I ran today!!!!!!
Well, I didn't "run", I jogged ... slowly.
But it was hands down the best 20 minutes I have had in the past year.
The day was all blue skies and I thought "I'll just take Harley out for a little hike."
Then, as I tied up my running shoes, something I haven't done with any serious intention for the better part of a year, I thought "well, maybe I can try to run."
I had zero expectations.
If anything, I was expecting to jog for 2 minutes or so and then walk the rest of the way.
We drove to the UBC trails.
At the head of the trail, I took a deep breath, let it out loudly, and said to Harley and to the skies "well, here goes nothing".
And then, like Forrest Gump, "I was runnnnnnning!"
It was slow.
Maybe a 7-7.5min/km pace.
BUt it felt good.
And the longer I went, the better I felt.
And suddenly 1 minute turned into 2 and 2 in to 10 and 10 into 20.
For 20 minutes, I jogged around the trails without a single pang in my back or a hint of numbness in my leg.
My knees were a little pissed off, but that's 'cause I've spent the last year getting chubby and I think they were revolting from the shock of it all. But that too passed.
I could have gone longer but thought that the victory was too mighty to risk jeopardizing.
So I slowed it to a walk.
And I started to laugh.
Like a crazy woman.
Then cry.
And when I got back to the car I called M and bawled my eyes out in the most awesomely happy and elated way.
"This is the beginning," he said.
And for the first time in a year of him showering me with phrases of optimism, I believed him.
Best day ever.
BEST.
But it was hands down the best 20 minutes I have had in the past year.
The day was all blue skies and I thought "I'll just take Harley out for a little hike."
Then, as I tied up my running shoes, something I haven't done with any serious intention for the better part of a year, I thought "well, maybe I can try to run."
I had zero expectations.
If anything, I was expecting to jog for 2 minutes or so and then walk the rest of the way.
We drove to the UBC trails.
At the head of the trail, I took a deep breath, let it out loudly, and said to Harley and to the skies "well, here goes nothing".
And then, like Forrest Gump, "I was runnnnnnning!"
It was slow.
Maybe a 7-7.5min/km pace.
BUt it felt good.
And the longer I went, the better I felt.
And suddenly 1 minute turned into 2 and 2 in to 10 and 10 into 20.
For 20 minutes, I jogged around the trails without a single pang in my back or a hint of numbness in my leg.
My knees were a little pissed off, but that's 'cause I've spent the last year getting chubby and I think they were revolting from the shock of it all. But that too passed.
I could have gone longer but thought that the victory was too mighty to risk jeopardizing.
So I slowed it to a walk.
And I started to laugh.
Like a crazy woman.
Then cry.
And when I got back to the car I called M and bawled my eyes out in the most awesomely happy and elated way.
"This is the beginning," he said.
And for the first time in a year of him showering me with phrases of optimism, I believed him.
Best day ever.
BEST.
Birkenhead Lake
M, the dog, and I headed into the interior to celebrate our country's 143rd birthday right smack dab in the middle of what makes this country so great: nature, mountains, forests, wonderment.
About 50km Northwest of Pemberton (and 3+ hours away from home), Birkenhead Lake is hidden off a 15km-long dirt road.
The closer we got, the bigger the mountains surrounding us became. In the beaming sunlight, were snow-capped peak after snow-capped peak. "This is amazing," said M to me and to the mountains and to the sky. "Wow." I said, breathing in and out at the same time. My heart seemed not big enough to take the beauty in.
OUr friends had found this site and recommended it to us, and we were so glad they did!
When we arrived (the last to arrive as always), they'd set up camp, had burgers on the grill, a campfire burning, and a beer in hand. We were keen to join them.
We quickly set up camp, fed the dog, opened a beer, sat in our chairs, and just "were".
We shot the shit with friends. We laughed. We told stories. We sang. We ate. We cheersed.
It was perfect.
The next day – after an exquisitely horrendous night of sleep thanks to a deflated air mattress, a gaseous dog, and a surprising dip in temperature – we explored.
In the morning we took a stroll down to Birkenhead Lake. A beautiful lake surrounded by majestic white-capped mountains. There was a little beach -- one for dogs; one for people (i love BC) -- and walking trails all around.
We would spend the better part of our afternoon here later playing frisbee, playing Aussie footy, trying our hand at fishing (to no avail), and sleeping in the sun.
We also took a mid afternoon stroll to the Goat Lookout. It's a steep hill trail up to a gorgeous lookout over Birkenhead Lake. We sat. We drank it all in. We ate strawberries. We oohed and aahed.
The camping itself was really uneventful -- the way we like it.
Essentially, it was two days of down time, of nature-infused therapy, and of fun and fantastickness.
Can't wait to go back when we have a little more time.
About 50km Northwest of Pemberton (and 3+ hours away from home), Birkenhead Lake is hidden off a 15km-long dirt road.
The closer we got, the bigger the mountains surrounding us became. In the beaming sunlight, were snow-capped peak after snow-capped peak. "This is amazing," said M to me and to the mountains and to the sky. "Wow." I said, breathing in and out at the same time. My heart seemed not big enough to take the beauty in.
OUr friends had found this site and recommended it to us, and we were so glad they did!
When we arrived (the last to arrive as always), they'd set up camp, had burgers on the grill, a campfire burning, and a beer in hand. We were keen to join them.
We quickly set up camp, fed the dog, opened a beer, sat in our chairs, and just "were".
We shot the shit with friends. We laughed. We told stories. We sang. We ate. We cheersed.
It was perfect.
The next day – after an exquisitely horrendous night of sleep thanks to a deflated air mattress, a gaseous dog, and a surprising dip in temperature – we explored.
In the morning we took a stroll down to Birkenhead Lake. A beautiful lake surrounded by majestic white-capped mountains. There was a little beach -- one for dogs; one for people (i love BC) -- and walking trails all around.
We would spend the better part of our afternoon here later playing frisbee, playing Aussie footy, trying our hand at fishing (to no avail), and sleeping in the sun.
We also took a mid afternoon stroll to the Goat Lookout. It's a steep hill trail up to a gorgeous lookout over Birkenhead Lake. We sat. We drank it all in. We ate strawberries. We oohed and aahed.
The camping itself was really uneventful -- the way we like it.
Essentially, it was two days of down time, of nature-infused therapy, and of fun and fantastickness.
Can't wait to go back when we have a little more time.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
How much wood can two boys cut?
There's something about camping in the woods that makes boys feel primal and tap into their longlost inner caveman.
Thing is, our city boys are Gap-wearing, Mazda-driving, golf club-swinging, sushi-eating softies who don't have a primal bone in their bodies.
Still, it's fun to watch them boast about their survival skills then fail miserably.
And when they fail, to blame it on everything but their obvious lack of survival skills.
It's darn right hilarious.
And kinda cute.
Here are the boys going at it in a Birkenhead Lake midnight Axe-a-Thon.
Luckily, no one lost an eye.
Thing is, our city boys are Gap-wearing, Mazda-driving, golf club-swinging, sushi-eating softies who don't have a primal bone in their bodies.
Still, it's fun to watch them boast about their survival skills then fail miserably.
And when they fail, to blame it on everything but their obvious lack of survival skills.
It's darn right hilarious.
And kinda cute.
Here are the boys going at it in a Birkenhead Lake midnight Axe-a-Thon.
Luckily, no one lost an eye.
Oh Canada
In the middle of a very iconic Canadian moment -- car camping at a beautiful lake in the BC interior, surrounded by snow-capped mountains, half-eaten hamburgers, empty beer bottles, socks and sandals, full moon, tall firs, summer-night-toques, and a lot of spirit -- we burst into an impromptu Oh Canada as our awesome country (save for a horrendous government run by a national embarrassment of a human being who prefers oil dollars over environmental preservation... but i digres..) celebrated its 143rd birthday.
Happy Birthday Canada.
(click "happy birthday for our Canadian singalong!)
I love living here.
Happy Birthday Canada.
(click "happy birthday for our Canadian singalong!)
I love living here.
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