Ramble on....

Yesterday was raw and damp and grey and cold...

The perfect day for a ramble in the countryside, collecting a bit of the wayside, to bring home
for decorating the porch.

Griffin and I ventured up  Island to visit with Irma and Griff's brother Frank.
Fueled by lunch and chocolate torte at the Rock Cod Cafe,

Irma wanted to show me another gem of a place she discovered while

out wandering. She's been a bit stir crazy since she broke her arm after it

got in the way of her horse Sophie's hoof.

Our destination was the original homestead of Swallowfield Farm.

 There was once a lovely old house here on a 300 acre farm.

Apparently famous for the potatoes grown there.

So down the long road now abandoned and closed off to vehicles

and used by ramblers such as ourselves...
The lads on the prowl...

The house sat on a little hill and looked down the valley towards 

the estuary and the ocean beyond that...

Just to the right, the view includes the mill.

Looking quite ominous, but at least it's not pumping out the toxic dioxins it used to.

Now imagine... back in the day when, as quoted from the book 'Memories of the Chemainus Valley',

"Sweeping meadow lands alternate, in season, with fields of oats and potatoes, 

Jersey cows graze knee deep in clover and alfalfa, pheasants and duck

"put up" anywhere, for it's probably the richest game preserve

on Vancouver Island. The Chemainus River winds through the 

meadowland to the sea, and on a ridge in it's midst rises

Mrs Hutchinson's most artistic and spacious residence,

full of works of art and books."

Sigh....

We wandered amongst the bright rose hips which speckled across the landscape

in little clouds of scarlet...

As we wandered along on high ground, we spotted something in the bush...
Far from any water there it was...

A boat!
It even had paddles and a life jacket underneath.
It was trying to be in disguise with branches and wood placed carefully to hide it.
So we left it in peace to pretend it should live up on the hill.
Down the old road we went, through the old farm fields,
past a beautiful reclining Garry oak..

Evidence of the containing of livestock of long ago...

...to the banks of the meandering river.
We had kayaked down here many years ago, so seeing the view from
land was quite different.
We talked about coming back in the spring for a picnic along this pretty stretch...

Bald eagles were still hanging around for the last bits of salmon who'd spawned
upriver just a month or so ago...

The Native Indians come here to duck hunt and we found a strange 'decoy'
or whatever it was pegged on a stick by the water...

After collecting rose hips, birds nests, privet branches and ivy, it was time
to head back to the van.
One last stop along the road though...

The old E & N railway line.
Not in much use these days, although there is talk of commuter rails, which
would be LONG overdue.
We took a stroll down to the river crossing.

 Frank, curious of the one hunched on the ground...

All in all a great wander...just what the doctor ordered.

Song for Friday...thoughtfulness

I guess, to be honest, I'm having a 'sad' week.

Thoughts of my sister come and go and some days they are more coming than going.

With the holiday season approaching, her 2nd born's birthday

being on Christmas day, well it all comes to settle deep in my thoughts and heart.

Some songs remind me of our childhood together, the late '60s and early '70s.

This is one of those songs that puts me in mind of  days gone by.

Hope you all have a great weekend, hug those you love and think of those who you can't be near to.

Wordless Wednesday...

Dreaming of ice...

"It's comin' on Christmas,

They're cuttin' down trees,

They're puttin' up reindeer,

Singing songs of joy and peace..."

"Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on..."

"Oh, I wish I had a river so long,

I would teach my feet to fly....."

"Oh, I wish I had a river...I could skate away on."

(words by Joni Mitchell. Needle felting by farmlass.)

Just waiting for some tiny skaters in my etsy shop.

Song for Friday...one they forgot to mention

The other night PBS had a documentary on women who've been influential

in the music industry from the '30's through to the present day.

There were the greats like Big Mama Thornton, Aretha Franklin,

Bonnie Raitt, Chrissy Hynde, Janis Joplin, Madonna.

But I was surprised when they didn't even mention Joan Armatrading.

Certainly one of the most independent, and first of 

the modern singer songwriters.

I had the good fortune of seeing her once at an outdoor festival

and she did not disappoint...

So here's is my inclusion of one of the 

Women Who Rock.

Happy Thanksgiving to our Southern neighbours

and hope you all have a lovely weekend with family and food!

remembering real winters...

It's funny, when it snows here, the first thing I want to do is 

grab my camera and go take pictures of the magic being created on the landscape.

Everything looks so pretty after the first fall of flakes.

Looking back on old photos from my childhood, I realized that the 

photos of the snowfalls always included people.

Most noticeably, us kids...

Here we are, circa 1969, in Riverdale Park, Toronto.

I remember the feeling of getting bundled up so tight that my dad had to

do up our boots, or skates because we couldn't bend over in all that winter gear.

That's me, front row center with the chipped tooth.

I remember that hat too. It was 'genuine sheep skin'

and man, was it warm! 

Toronto winters were white, long and cold...

My sister, me and my brother (probably freezing our little buts off)

But seeming like we were having fun no matter what the temperature was.

That's my dad's big shadow taking our picture.

I guess because I don't have little kids at home anymore, I tend to

take pictures of the leaves and trees and shadows of the weather...

I'm not sure if I lived back east again if I would be running out at the 

first sight of snowy down. 

Winter is different there. You're in for the long haul and the first snow

is the sign of the beginning of about 6 more months of it.

It's cold and predictable.

Here we can have mild temps for weeks at a time and snow

is a fairly short occurrence.

It never lasts long.

Here's my sister in her new winter coat.

It was bright red and black. 

And those boots!!

You go-go girl!

Now look at the snow beside her...

I remember making tunnels and igloos out of those piles.

Here we don't get that at all.

And the tobogganing!!

We were on the hill all the time.

Every household owned at least one toboggan.

I think I should like to spend at least one more winter in real snow.

Maybe I'm forgetting all the shite parts of real winters though...

the driving, the shovelling, the not getting out of the house for days.

But I guess that's the beauty of childhood memories isn't it?

All sugar and spice and coming in from the cold, leaving your winter

woollies in a pile in the basement and coming upstairs for hot cocoa...

a mouse in the house...

This little mouse is welcome in the house...

Jeremy came honestly onto this spot on the books.

He worked his way into my dreams and I in turn worked

the wool into what is now himself.

No wicked cat flipping him into the air like a toy, dragging him under the bed

and staring him down.

No, Jeremy is calm in his woolen work socks...

Ready for the cold winter nights ahead.

At home on the window sill as well...

Who knows where his journey will take him?