All about the truth (or Google-bombing)

Just doing my part in a web experiment. Linking to the truth .

What is this all about? This will explain it.

Google supposedly has defused the Google-bomb.(wiki)

A Google bomb is Internet slang for a certain kind of attempt to influence the ranking of a given page in results returned by the Google search engine, often with humorous or political intentions.[1] Because of the way that Google's algorithm works, a page will be ranked higher if the sites that link to that page use consistent anchor text.

Which would be a pity, sort of. It was fun while it lasted. But I guess it did make things difficult for serious searchers. Which of course we (you and me, anyway) are, right?

Nostalgia is Catching

In the last few days, I've seen several blog posts resurrecting vintage family photos. Baby pictures, ours or our adult kids', for example: see here, here and here.

It's catching. Now I've come down with the fever, forced to dig through old boxes and cabinets, looking for memories.

Here are some I found, in chronological order.

My aunt in first grade. Toronto, about 1910, 1911. She's the one on the front left (your left, not hers), holding her doll upright, by the feet. She never was the maternal type. Never married, lived at home with her widowed mother until Nana's death, a schoolteacher by profession and temperament. The quintessimal "maiden aunt" of old fiction.* We don't see many of those, these days.

*Except that she laughed a lot.

I see dolls like those in antique fairs. They cost a pretty penny today.

My father in shop class, fourth from the left. Toronto, early 1920s.

Most of the boys in button-down shirts and ties, suit jackets. Mostly with the apron; it's a shop class, after all.

Look closely; those are small work-benches, with bench clamps and rows of holes for wooden-handled chisels and files and a saw. There's a big plane and a measuring compass, a T-square on the wall. A well-equipped shop.

On the blackboard: acorns, some type of propeller, the words "tangent, tangential". A cross-section of a log, some kind of pattern. I wonder what it is they were going to be making?

Along the top, a variety of bird houses; previous creations by the boys?

My brother and I, 1945/6. Red Deer, Alberta. And our car.


Anyone know its make and year? I don't. I know it was black. Of course.

Smartalecky grandkid blogging

She's cute sometimes, though.

(Lousy photo quality: disposable camera)

Spring! Spring! Spring!

Yes, it's coming; spring is coming.

I know, because:

-- Laurie brought home a bag of soil yesterday; today he spent an hour outside in the cold getting his hands dirty.

-- The lawn is growing.

-- The northern shoveller I saw the other day was wearing breeding colours.

-- My perennials are poking through the soil, if they hid over the winter. Those that stayed green are spreading already.

-- And my daffodils are several inches high!

Yay!

The photo shows a sheltered spot under a juniper last week. Even with several inches of snow on the ground, all the encouragement the grass and heather need is that tiny gradient in temperature.

Eagle impersonating an owl. And heron.

The first roll of film from last Wednesday has been developed. And the posing heron came out beautifully; he would be proud. Not a feather out of place! Look at that neat "pigtail".








And the eagle: Laurie wasn't sure he could get a clear photo because of all the branches, but a couple turned out nicely. In this one, with him looking straight at the camera, his face seems very owlish.

Alternate Universe photos

Among my favourite photos are some real oddballs; indefinable, indescribable. Photos from odd angles, weird reflections, optical illusions, unforseen accidents and the effects of the general contrariness of things. Back when I kept them all in hard copy, I put them in an album that I called "Alternate Universes".

And they are just too good, sometimes, to keep to myself. So I'll post them here, periodically, under that same title: Alternate Universe Photos.

This first one was taken from the balcony during a snowstorm. Branches of a tree, sky, and distant evergreens, with snowflakes in front. The camera is on automatic focus, but the falling snow in the foreground threw it off, so it produced an impressionist painting instead, reminding me of a snippet of some half-forgotten painting, Monet perhaps, or Renoir.

It puzzles me, though. First off, I always thought snowflakes were supposed to look like snowflakes; separate hexagonal stars or clusters arranged loosely in a flattish formation, like the large ones I often see falling slowly in a heavy snowstorm. Not snowballs. But that's what showed up on the film. Round, heavy-looking balls.

Look at the second photo, taken in a previous snowfall. Same thing: snowballs.

Second; what I see in this top photo is the neck and shoulders of a woman in a brown dress and wearing a white necklace, seen through an etched glass jar with white polka dots on the top section.

Laurie doesn't see that at all. How about you? What do you see?

Good Planets, Saturday, January 27th

Good Planets are Hard to Find has been posted at Somewhere in NJ . Laura has done a beautiful job with this one, as usual. And the photos are exceptional!

It's my turn to host next month; you can send your photos to me at susannah at dccnet dot com, or via the Blog Carnival submision form.

More winter "flowers"

Well, it looks a bit like white blossoms, anyhow. Snow, last week.

I love the redness of the branch tips in the bottom photo. (Click on it for the full-size view.) The sap is flowing.

The squeaky wheel ...

... gets the grease.

So, after my half-hopeful, half-mournful comments on the weather yesterday, it stopped raining. And the sun came out! It pays to squeak!

Laurie and I went down to the Ladner dikes to check out the birds, and maybe get some photos.

Even before we arrived, we had to stop to look at a mature eagle in a tree, then a minute later for a great blue heron on the side of the road, one who didn't mind having his photo taken; he stood there patiently, posing for us.

Two more herons at the entrance to the dike. A sparrow. A flock of sandpipers speeding across the bay, so far away that it was just a fleeting shadow. And then, nothing. Mud and logs, dried weeds and distant water.

Still, it was pleasant out there, with the sun on our backs and Mount Baker, covered with snow, sailing above the low-lying land across the bay. We walked on.

A birder carrying a camera with a humongous lens stopped to tell us about a harrier (marsh hawk) across the flats, on a dead root, too far away, she said, even for her equipment. I squinted and strained and finally saw it; a bird-shaped blob. I kept my eye on it as we walked along. Eventually, it lifted off and sailed across the flats. Flap flap flap, glide... flap flap flap, glide... I glanced away for just a half a second, looked back and it was gone. No matter how I stared at the blank marsh, I couldn't see it. Totally invisible. "That's the point," Laurie said.

We saw it again, later, on a dead branch. Again, a bird-shaped brown blob. At least this time, I was able to identify the colour. So it was a female; the males are light grey.

Half-way to Mud Bay Park, we turned back. Not before the setting sun presented me with a picture that no camera could get: Mount Baker, highlighted over a misty, grey-blue sky and hills. In front, still far away, a flock of seagulls -- hundreds of them -- streaming west , heading for wherever they settle down for the night. As they flew, the sunlight turned them into a cloud of tiny white fireflies, flickering on and off as the light caught the beating wings. Unforgettable.

On the way back to the car, in the center of a small tide pool, I saw a Northern Shoveller. They winter in this area, but this was the first I had seen close enough to identify as such. It was a male, and already sporting his white spring markings; my book, The Audubon Society Field Guide, tells me that they molt in February. So he's a bit early. Another sign of warmer temperatures?

Three more eagles on the way home. A pair in a tree, one flying.

All in all, a great afternoon. I take back yesterday's grumble.

Photos: Mud Bay, slightly south of where we were. And starlings in a tree at the entrance to the dike.

Update: Photos of the eagle and heron in a more recent post.

Remember Summer?

In these grey, rainy, drizzly, darkling days, it is hard to remember what it was like, oh, so long ago, 6 months ago, thereabouts.

So here's a reminder. Purple clematis on an alley fence, pink blooms and Canada geese at "The Farm", children playing after supper in a water park in Strathcona. Summer, glorious summer!

Remember the long, bright days? Sunrise at 6 AM? Sunset around 9? Long, peaceful evenings elivened by birdsong? Picking blackberries along the trails? Beaches?

It does happen. Even here.

I think it was Jood, at Journeys with Jood, who said I had a "dark sense of humor" because I sent her a summery photo (tubing down the Kettle River) in early December. Maybe I do, and here I am torturing everyone again with recollections of sunshine.


Or it may be just that sometimes I need to be reminded that nothing is forever, not even dull days.










And in aid of that thought, my hydrangea has inch-long new leaf buds, a couple of them opening up into full-fledged, if small, leaves.

Snow in Arizona and other Absurdities

Interesting reading in the blogs today; here's a list of links:

Lloyd's of London gets serious about climate change.

With new weather patterns, exposures are changing and insurers need to act now, says the new Lloyd’s report Climate Change: Adapt or Bust.

From The Loom , a post about the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change's upcoming report on global warming. (February 2nd)

One thing that apparently will set this new edition apart will be a section that looks at the impact global warming is having on nature--plants blooming earlier, species moving towards the poles, and so on.

CEOs of 10 major US corporations call for greenhouse gas cap. Immediately, too! Good news.

It is recommending Congress implement short- and mid-term greenhouse gas reduction targets. Specifically, U.S. emissions should be between 100 to 105 percent of today´s levels within the five years after enacting legislation. Within the next 10 years, those they should be between 90 and 100 percent of current levels and between 70 and 90 percent within 15 years.

(Also commented on in politics is applesauce. )

And tomorrow evening, Bush will be giving his SOTU address, in which he is expected to mention climate change. The question is, will he be anywhere near on the same page as the scientists and policy-makers (or even in the same book)?

Chris Mooney comments on this in The Intersection: Will Bush Flip-flop on GHG Emissions?

Question for some enterprising blog reader: Has Bush ever voluntarily discussed global warming, or even mentioned that phrase (or "climate change"), in a previous SOTU address?

And here in Canada? Well, Chris Tindall sees Canada's "New Government" giving back a fraction of what it just took away, in support of environmental programs. Odiyya in The Conscious Earth looks at Harper's pro environment initiatives and notes:

To date, the net impact of Harpers green approach has been a one year delay in implementing what was already on the books.

Down to local conditions:

Pam in Tucson (Tortoise Trail) reports on a snow day in Tucson schools. How long is it since they saw that, I wonder?

Some great pictures of cacti under snow at The Firefly Forest . A "must-see".

And here? It's still raining, hard and steady. 7 degrees C. downtown. Not a trace of snow anywhere, except in heaps at the corners of mall parking lots. My primula is still blooming.

"Waddya mean, I'm going crooked?"

The last of the snow for this year, we all hope. Photo taken from the balcony last week.

Three of the residents of this building got busy and shovelled all the snow off the driveway, just in time for it to start raining.

And it's been raining off and on since; it's raining again right now. There are only a few small patches of snow left on my lawn, the rhododendron has lifted up its crumpled leaves and is all over buds. The varied thrush didn't bother to come by today, nor did most of the juncos. Life is back to normal.

For how long, though? On The Island of Doubt, James Hrynyshyn reports on the expected Feb. 2 report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change that, it seems, will warn us:

It is "very likely that hot extremes, heat waves and heavy precipitation events will continue to become more frequent."

Leaving aside the ongoing argument about how much of this is our fault, and how much is just nature taking it's course (as if we weren't a part of this "nature", anyhow), and whether or not we can do anything at this late date to turn the dial back, it is still clear that we are in for a rough ride. This old universe is not a friendly place. Beautiful, yes, but not hospitable to us.

As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.

For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.

Psalm 103:15,16

Good Planets, Saturday, January 20th

Once again Good Planets are Hard to Find for this week is up, on Somewhere in NJ. Do go over and look at these wonderful photos! Complete archive on Flickr: Photos from Good Planets .

Laura writes:

Everyone is invited to particpate in the Good Planets Show. Send your photos to me, lc-hardy AT comcast DOT net for inclusion in next Saturday's edition. If you're prone to procrastinate, send your pics for February to Wanderin Weeta (susannah AT dccnet DOT com). Maybe you'd like to host Good Planets on your own blog? Think about it and contact Robin at newdharmabums AT yahoo DOT com.

That's Laura, then, for next week's photos, me for February, and Robin to put yourself on the list of hosts.

Crow Celebrating the Dawn

No words needed.

Rain, sleet, snow, ice, slush and mud

I was on the road for about 3 hours today, for what normally would be a 1 1/2 hour commute. Delta to Cambie and 12th in Vancouver: 1 hour. Normal time, about 35-40 minutes. An hour there, then a good half-hour to IKEA in Richmond. Normal time: about 15 minutes. Lunch and shopping, then home to Delta, with a side trip to find gas. About an hour and a half, instead of just the half.

And I was lucky, they say; some people were sitting in their cars for over 3 hours at a time.

The weather was not helping; when it was not sleeting, it was raining on the old slush. Or snowing, just to keep the mix of water and ice constant. I spun my tires once, slipped off to the side on a curve once, driving slowly, of course.

But what was really fouling up the traffic was the construction of the RAV line. This is an extension of the present SkyTrain system to connect downtown Richmond and the airport to Vancouver. They're trying to get it done by 2010, in time for the Winter Olympics, so they're tackling all areas at once. This line crosses the Fraser River twice, going under one road bridge, over another, over its own bridge, and tunnelling under the arm just south of downtown Vancouver. In between, it tunnels under Vancouver, from the south end at Marine Drive, all the way to downtown. On my map, that adds up to about 10 kilometres underground (6 miles). Most of this is top-down digging, as in the photo, taken in the centre of what used to be the most landscaped and beautiful of our Vancouver streets, as well as one of the few direct routes to downtown.

At 12th and Cambie, where I was headed this morning, right between City Hall and a heritage school building/modern shopping centre, that tunnelling entails a deep pit under the intersection, one lane traffic all four ways, ramshackle pedestrian walkways and mud. Plenty of mud. And stop-and-go traffic, one car length at a time. My car overheated. So did I.

The worst of it all isn't the inconvenience. That I could tolerate, with a good end in view; better transit options, fewer cars on the roads, less pollution. And a tourist bonanza to boot: that is what the RAV PR is telling us will be the result. But what government project ever accomplished its aims without serious drawbacks?

This one will be no different. For starters, financing. The total cost was supposed to be $1.9 billion in 2003 dollars. Of course, it won't be anywhere close to that figure. Cost overruns always plague our government projects; I would not be surprised to hear that it ends up at double that cost.

Then, they promised minimum impact on businesses. I can already see, along Cambie, the changes in the business community. Smaller stores are gone. Some of them, wiped out completely; work is starting on large-scale construction on their former sites. A mini-mall where I used to shop with my son: now flattened, waiting for the developers. The supermarket at 16th: slated for high-rise condominiums.

They promised benefits to tourism. Here is the entrance to Queen Elizabeth Park, one of Vancouver's most visited tourist destinations.

And, of course, they will have extreme difficulty in finishing on time for the Olympics. To keep up appearances, they will (let me try my hand at crystal-gazing here) cut corners, skimping on details. Essential details. This will not be evident until some 5 years down the road, and will then necessitate them throwing another billion or so down the sinkhole.

To add the final touch to the whole mess, passengers will not flock to the new route to the tune of 100,000 riders a day. On-going costs will go up. The squeaky, howling wheels on the old trains will finally need replacing; the new trains will not operate as consistently as expected. The system will start to lose money on its first day of operation and will never pay its way.

Call me a pessimist. I call myself a realist. Or just old. I've been here before.

Even in the dead of winter there are flowers ...

... here in BC. We photographed this orange witch hazel the last week in December, at the New Westminster Quay.

Bare twigs, lichen, dead leaves ... and the newest petals of the spring crop of blooms. So new, as yet unfurled, but so brightly coloured.

I saw a brilliant yellow witch hazel in full flower a few Januarys ago in Deer Lake Park, just below the art gallery. Such a cheerful sight on a winter's day, with the silvery, icy lake below you, grey clouds overhead and your wet feet freezing on the slushy path! Worth the pain. (Note to self: next time, wear boots.)

Of course, we always find pansies along the promenade from late winter until late spring, great masses of them, mostly in yellows and mauve at this time of year. And a stray hardy rose or two as well as the most persistent of the fuschias. The viburnum is just starting to bud; next time we walk there, it will be in full bloom.

Pansies hiding in a nice, warm(er) micro-climate. And doing better than the ones out in open beds.

And there are always the regrettable solutions to problems better left alone. Here along the Quay, someone with a lack of imagination always sets in truckloads of "ornamental" kale, green, white, purple and pink, in any space they find empty. In straight rows, sometimes on the diagonal, sometimes alternating colours regularly, like a checker board. Pretty at first sight, maybe interesting at the second. Not at the hundred and seventy-eighth.

But then again, maybe if we have a bad economic stretch, we can eat them.


Photo of kale from here.

Weather blogging

Bev, over at Burning Silo, has a good post on changes she has observed in her Ontario weather. She writes, after a description of the unusually warm winter:

Anyhow, all of this to say that, I think it’s good to be talking about the weather. That’s what people used to do in the good old days before they started spending so much time indoors. Maybe it’s time we started paying more attention to what’s going on outside in the real world. After all, that’s where our food, water and air come from - much as we might like to think we’re self-contained space-age units. In the comments that follow Wayne’s post on weather trends for my area, he wrote:
What I’d really like to see is every “nature blogger”, and we cover quite a swath, do a simple analysis like this and post it. No, I’m not going to hold my breath, but it would certainly be an improvement on shaky anecdotal memories. Just imagine - a dozen, a hundred! bloggers all posting climate change in their own territories, and then being able to use their own discoveries, as well as pointing to others, when they scream at their representatives in whatever legislative body that something must be done.

I agree. I have done my own share of weird weather blogging on the old blog, here, here, here, and here . And on this blog, I posted photos of our freak snowstorm, something extremely unusual for this area.

(And what's this about Carribean North? Read about it on Journeys with Jood.)

I like the idea of a "Weather Bloggers' Network", linking together those that Bev has referenced in her post (read it all; some good links, too) and the rest of us who sometimes look out our windows.

And by the way, it's snowing again. All morning today. And the snow hadn't even melted since the last time!

And the varied thrush are back again. I'll try to get a photo.

Topsy-turvy-wobbly world

On an urban "pond" or "lagoon", which is what the sales personnel would call a rectangular, knee-deep body of water surrounded by high-rises, a substitute for the close-cropped lawn decorated with "Keep Off The Grass" signs (here replaced by "Do Not Feed The Ducks"), the good old laws of physics make a mockery of the architects' vision: see these photos for evidence.

This is New Westminster Quay, in the last few days of December. Laurie climbed atop a pillar above the bridge to get the first photo, with a view of the sky above the building, mingled with the detritus at the bottom of the pond. (Flying detritus? And is that a pizza box?)

The other three were taken at ground level.

I flipped the last one over, just for the fun of it, but Laurie said it made him seasick, so I'm being kind and posting the photo as the camera saw it. It's up to you; your risk: rotate it 180 degrees, if you dare!

Varied Thrush!

We've had another week of snow and below-zero weather. The bird bath, here on this shady side of the building, is frozen solid, no matter how often I fill it from the hot kettle. Except where we banged the snow off the rhododendron and the hedge, everything is under a thick, white blanket.
The birds will be hungrier than usual; our Lower Mainland birds aren't used to having their food sources buried.

I went shopping and forgot to buy bird seed; all I have left are the black oil sunflower seeds I special-ordered a few months back. And the juncos and other tiny birds can't manage those.

I scrounged through my cupboards. No bread. No cereal. No crackers. No fruit. I'm on a low-carb diet, but the birds aren't.

I found a jar of rolled oats. Ahhh! I added half a cup to the bowl I keep by the door (under the overhang, to keep the snow out), and kept watch. The juncos and towhees liked it. Good.

Today there was a varied thrush on the patio, tippy-toeing around the feeder bowl. We watched, barely moving; that was the first I had ever seen one come so close to the house. Usually, they scan the edge of the lawn, just beyond the hedge, then skedaddle quickly back into the underbrush. Shy creatures, they are. So we kept still.

He looked this way, that, this, that. Checked out that bowl from all angles. Scanned the area. And finally decided to chance it; he hopped inside and dug in. And stayed until he had eaten his fill.

A few minutes later, he was back with his mate. Less tentative, this time; both of them hogged the bowl, in turn, shooing smaller birds (a pair of fox sparrows, the juncos, a few smaller sparrows, the chickadees) away until they were done.

We didn't take photos; not and risk scaring the pair off, the first time they ventured so near. The photo here is from Wikipedia .

Googling "varied thrush", I learned that they are known to like rolled oats. So from now on, the ground feeders are going to be getting good "stick-to-your-ribs" oatmeal with their seed. (Wouldn't they like this; Molasses Maple Granola. Pumpkin seeds, nuts, fruit and blackstrap molasses. Yum!)

Good Planets, January 13th

The latest installment of Good Planets are Hard to Find is up, at Somewhere in NJ . Great photos, as usual. I especially liked the one of shutters in Amsterdam (windows an added benefit: I love reflecting windows!)


(The photo on this post is a non-stained-glass window in the Augsburg Church in Bella Coola, BC. The red berries and green leaves of the mountain ash outside give it some colour.)

Laura will be posting the next two installments, and then I will take over for February. You can e-mail photos to her at lc-hardy AT comcast DOT net and then, after January 27th, to me at susannah AT dccnet DOT com .

And all the photos, old and new, are archived at the Good Planets Flickr Gallery .

'nuff links?

Yup, that's me!

Found behind the filing cabinet.










Make your own.

Dulce et Decorum

So: the U.S. has attacked Iran, as predicted. Whether inside or outside Iran's borders seems irrelevant; the effect will be the same.

George Bush is certifiably insane.

But will they impeach? Let me guess: not yet.

Today's title comes from Wilfrid Owen's WWI poem : Dulce et Decorum Est (It is sweet and honourable -- to die for one's country.)

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Too Overwhelmed for Words (Almost)

Yesterday, we visited a friend we met at antique fairs, invited to see her father's collection of Chinese porcelain and paintings.

After "elevenses"; tea, sandwiches and a coconut cake, we went upstairs to the porcelain and jade room. More than 3 hours later, we tottered downstairs, exhausted.

We had looked until our eyes blurred, bent over delicate pieces and heard the stories depicted in elaborate scenes.

We examined the intricacies of carvings of warriors and dragons, saw gestalt figures in a large piece of jade, felt cold stone warm to our hands, imagined settings for this piece and that.

Listened as the art "spoke" to us.

Two of the pieces are displayed here; a large glass snuff bottle, painted on the inside (through a tiny opening barely wide enough for a skinny chopstick) with seashore and town centre scenes. Priced (see the website) at $980 Canadian.

I boggled at the idea of painting these: with what? An L-shaped, fine-tipped paintbrush? And a magnifying glass?

With immense talent and patience, that's certain.

And a plate decorated with three dragons contending for the "flaming pearl", which Goretti (the daughter and present owner) told us is symbolic of a great treasure, hidden away; the princess in her palace, for example. ($4,800.00)

Beautiful things, gorgeous jade, vases to die for, tiny bowls for the most exquisite tea, wine ewers, wood carvings, Kuan Yin statuettes in jade, porcelain, pottery, iron and stone. Boxes upon boxes containing indescribable wonder.

We barely skimmed the surface. And didn't get to the paintings at all.

Overwhelming, utterly discombobulating. The privilege to see and handle these treasures, a precious gift. Words fail me.

Thank you, Goretti, thank you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her website, again: Imperial Gallery . Drop in and spend an hour!

Good Planets, First of 2007

The first 2007 "Good Planets are Hard to Find" post is up, at Somewhere in NJ. Great photos, as always.

Baby bunnies, a red-tailed hawk, a night heron, tulips and lady's slippers, sunrise, sunset. And much, much more; toodle over there and take a look!

Back-Alley Totem Poles

I never tire of prowling Strathcona's streets and alleys. It's a section of Vancouver where quirkiness is almost a requirement for residency.

I have admired these "sculptures" for some time, but they didn't seem to be quite photogenic enough. On this visit, they were.

What the difference is, I don't know. Maybe the wall has been painted; was it plain white last time I saw it? I don't remember. Or maybe it is just a trick of the light. The full summer sun does tend to wash out colours and erase shadows.

So here they are, early morning, a few days before Christmas, between bouts of bad weather.

Laurie calls them totem poles. Could be. Let's see; our First Nations people put up totem poles at their doors to say:

"This is who we are; these carvings symbolically show what we stand for."
Additionally, Natives felt they had special rights to claim a link to the super-human beings they depicted on their poles. These special links included: being "descended from ...." or having recently "encountered ..." or having received "a gift from ...".
Some poles embody one-of-a-kind stories or unusual symbols. These stories or symbols are known in their entirety only to the pole's owner and the carver of the totem pole.

So there could be a bear figure atop a beaver, a frog, a wolf, a whale; all telling a story of events in the lives and ancestry of the inhabitants of the home or tribal land.

Northwest Pacific Coast Native stories involve the easy transformation of animals into humans or vice versa, or the transformation of supernatural beings into humans.They involve whole villages of Salmon or Whale people who live happily in underwater cities; powerful beings who live deep within whirlpools in the ocean, smelt copper, and periodically change into Frogs; wild creatures who steal children, try to eat them, are caught, burned and transformed into Mosquitos; giant Thunderbirds who swoop down from the sky and snatch up giant Whales to eat for dinner; Wolves who, at night, change into bony, yet attractive Ghost People, and Wolves who grow tired of hunting in packs on the land and change into hunting packs of Killer Whales.

I wonder what these two totems tell of? "Grandpa was a shape-shifter (transformer)"? A member of the "Resistance"? Electrified bowling balls? Or just a fascination with shapes and textures?

Another totem; this one not a pole, but a carving into a wooden door on a ramshackle boathouse in Delta, half-way between Mud Bay and Crescent Beach. How authentic its design is, I don't know. I took a course, once, too long ago, where we studied the different types of tribal designs in this area, and the figures involved. Alas, I have forgotten most of it. So I can't even identify the figures any more. I think that top creature with the red ears must be an owl. ... Or is it a hawk? Alack, alas! *

The bottom half seems to be a mirror image carved by a second person, not quite as confident as the original, coloured top section. It makes a most impressive door, however.

~~~~~~~~~~

* Sonny, in the comments, says it's probably a hawk.

First Post of 2007: Visiting Raccoon

Recently we spent a couple of nights at my daughter's house in Strathcona, house- and cat-sitting.


The first night, I heard some scritching noises on the back porch; a large raccoon, trying to get at the dog food, stingily stashed in a sturdy but transparent plastic container. I rushed for my camera, and snapped wildly through the rain-spattered windows. He sat there placidly, not minding the flash, until I opened the back door to get a clear shot. Then he left, in a hurry, so that all I got was his backside, a lump of grizzled fur on the steps.



Here, though, is one of the photos through the window; recycling containers, leftover Christmas "snow", old summer chair, dogfood and the 'coon, all smudged by the dust and rain on the window.


And an enlargement and enhancement of the important part of the photo. He looks very tame, sitting there, very dog-like.


They warn us about these raccoons. They may seem tame, but if frightened or trapped can inflict nasty wounds. And since they sometimes carry rabies, a bite victim may need a series of protective (and expensive) shots.


I have never heard of an actual case where a person was bitten, but they do tangle with cats and dogs fairly frequently. The pets usually get the worst of it.


And they can be real nuisances in populated areas. They make nests under porches, in basements, in garden sheds. They rummage through the garbage, dig holes in the garden. And eat the cat and dog food, if they can get at it. "Masked bandits", they are often called.


My daughter, like her neighbours, keeps the garbage in a container with a tight-fitting lid, the compost well covered and the dogfood zipped up. The cat eats inside. But this guy obviously is finding plenty of unprotected edibles; look at the size of him!


There's a good side to the raccoon. They are often (properly vaccinated) kept as pets, and I hear that they can be good companions. (As a child, I read the book, "Rascal", about one such pet raccoon; how I envied that boy!) In the wild, they bother no-one; like the bears they are related to, they fish, hunt, pick berries, root for insects. Like the bears, they will raid an orchard or harvest your corn in season. And of course, if you catch them doing so, they're fair game; a raccoon stew is very tasty, I've been told by them as should know.


And, nuisance or not, they belong here. Long before the first Europeans sailed, paddled or hiked to these shores, this raccoon's forebears were collecting mussels and clams along the waterfront, fastidiously washing the sand off before they ate them. We have built houses and roads in his berry patches and polluted his fishing holes; maybe he's entitled to a mouthful of dog food now and again.


So, to start the New Year off, a nod to our fellow-creatures; may we long live in peace and mutual respect.

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Posted on Friday Ark, January 5th