Count the sparrows

 A bit of colour on a rainy afternoon.

Last leaves on the tree, and some leaf-sized sparrows.

Mouse and bear

It has been another grey, rainy day, a day for staying home, a day for tidying shelves and hard drives, for making soup and posing as cat furniture. In a folder labelled "everything but the kitchen sink" I found photos I should have posted ages ago. Good fodder for rainy days.

This one is from October, 2020, on Baikie Island.

Part of a two-bear carved seat.

The mouse is unfortunately deceased. Some passerby must have moved him off the path and left him to dry in the sunshine.

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Hoy fue otro de esos dias de lluvia, sin color, todo gris. Un dia para quedarse en casa, un dia para limpiar estantes y para organizar los archivos en el disco duro, para preparar una sopa nutritiva, para convertirme en mueble para gatos.

En un archivo con el nombre de "todo menos el fregadero" encontré fotos que debiera haber subido hace tiempo ya. Buena provisión para los dias de lluvia.

La foto es de parte de un banco "dos osos" al lado del camino en la Isla Baikie. El ratoncito, pobrecito, ya había fallecido. Algún transeunte lo había colocado en el lomo del oso para secarse al sol.

Solid comfort

I find masses of rock, the bones of the earth, curiously comforting. Maybe it's their indifference to the passing whims of wind and weather and the feeble scratchings of people below them. Maybe it's because they're always just there, while the centuries roll over them.

Mount Flannigan, Elk River, central Vancouver Island.

Rivers wander about, chewing at the land they flow through, changing their paths, rising and falling. The rocks remain.

In a valley near the Elk River

Summer brings a froth of green around the base of the mountains; evergreens blanket the upper slopes. Even they come and go. The rocks remain.

The face of Mount Flannigan

Somehow, amid the panics and enthusiasms of the day, a look at a rock face slows time, calms me.

No-name hills behind Drum Lakes (really two small, shallow puddles, but the map names them.) Rising water levels have killed the lower trees.

Photos on a rainy afternoon near Gold River.

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Contemplando la roca, la materia esencial de nuestra tierra, me trae consuelo. Tal vez por su indiferencia a los accidentes del día, el viento y las tormentas, los rasguños que hacemos los humanos, el paso de los años.

Los ríos vienen y se van, cambian su camino, suben y bajan. La roca permanece.

Lo verde es una espuma que pasa. La roca permanece.

Entre los terrores y los entusiasmos del día, miro la cara de una montaña y descanso.

Las fotos son de cerros al lado del Rio Elk, en una tarde lluviosa.