Backyard Booty

I had such great plans of devoting a bit more time to my blog, but alas, it's not to happen just yet. However, to sate you all, those of you who are still around, here's a sweet nugget from home. There really is no place like home, is there?

Backyard Booty Segment: Natural Progressions from Ryan Flett on Vimeo.

Whitewater Winter Stoke

As we quickly tumble away from summer into cooler weather here in the Kootenays, our thoughts move away from all the summer joys of beaches, bonfires, swimming in the lake and the like and we start to dream of the winter fun that lies just beyond the horizon. For many of us, that means Whitewater ski resort. Here, we love big, fluffy flakes the flutter fearlessly thick and carpet the mountains and tree tops. We love how the snow crusts over and sparkles like diamonds. We dream of deep powder that goes flying as we glide through it. Through those dark winter months, this is what keeps our hearts beating. If you are lucky enough to find yourself in the Kootenays in the middle of winter, tap into the pulse that keeps us going. Check out the magic of Whitewater.

Jammin'

It's that time of year again when the trees start to be laden with fruit and preserving hangs heavy in the air. As luck would have it, I was gifted a box of jamming cots. I hardly eat jam myself as I prefer to stay away from anything with too much sugar in it, however, it's always nice to have around the house for when company arrives. And truth be told, I can't resist how pretty the jars look sitting on my shelf. There are also the odd times when I come across a recipe that calls for apricot jam and it would be a pity to not have a jar or two around considering how easy it is to make and how plentiful the fruit is this time of year.

I did save some of the fruit for smoothies as I am crazy about smoothies and have been freezing up fruit where possible to get me through the winter.

As you can see, I also made some spicy red pepper jelly. Now this is a treat that I will indulge in every now and again. It's a real hit around the holidays if you pair it with crackers and cream cheese. If you'd like the recipe, you can find it here.

Today's Mantra

I pledge to see all challenges, joys and sorrows as the ground from which I grow. All things are interdependent, temporary, and empty of inherent existence. When it comes time to part, I will try to look back with joy. One cannot hold onto anything forever.

Summer Harvests

Most of you know that I get busy with things like canning this time of year. I really prefer eating foods that are regional, fresh, and in season. Nothing can beat the intense flavours of vine ripened vegetables or fruits. Summers are plentiful, but, of course, living in a northern climate, there's not much that's regional and fresh in the winter. Essentially, canning or freeing is the only way to capture those fresh flavours and save them for grey, dreary, dark days.

This year, like most, I canned a whole slew of tomatoes, essentially because they are so versatile and go in so many dishes. Some years I think I will eat less tomatoes...they are, after all, from the nightshade family, however, I haven't yet gotten to the point where I feel the necessity to eliminate them.

I also did up apple sauce. We have bumper crops of apples this year the likes of which haven't been seen in years. Old trees in the mountains, which haven't produced much in years, have boughs bending to the point of breaking they are so heavily laden with fruit. Apples are definitely on the menu this fall and some sauce for the winter.

I don't always, but this year I also did up a couple batches of tomato sauce. It's nice to have sauce already prepared and to be able to simply open a jar. I did one batch with a recipe from the Re-Bar cookbook and then made up a batch of my own making. Mine was heavy on the basil, with not quite as much garlic as the first batch.

I still have some more canning / food prep to do if I can find the time, but I essentially feel okay about the colder weather settling in.

Waiting

Winter just doesn't want to release its hold this year. Sure, we've had a few sunny warm days, but then the north wind blows in our direction leaving a trail of frost in her wake. We were enshrouded in fog again today as snow angrily inched its way down the mountain side. The winter jackets and boots are safely ensconced at the back of the closet and I just haven't the heart to pull them back out again. I've resorted to wearing layers, usually about five so that I can adjust depending on what the weather decides to do and it seems to change numerous times throughout the day. I saw one lone crocus trying fearlessly to cheer up the barren yard wondering when the rest would make their debut. The whole lot of them have decided that late is fashionable and it's questionable whether they'll even turn up for Easter. Just the same, I've decided to will spring. I've hauled out my pots, filled them with dirt and various sorts of seeds. Some have been sitting on my window sills for the last week, and the rest I finished up today. It doesnt seem to matter how many times I do this, the thrill is just the same when I see them finally poking their heads through the dirt. Now if it were only warm enough that I could start working out in the yard.

Candle of Peace

Yesterday marked the lighting of the second candle on the advent wreath. Last week, the first candle, the candle of hope was lit, and this week is the candle of peace. Peace is possible. It's in our hearts waiting to be felt. We all have the potential to experience joy and a certain peace that dwells within. If I can hope for anything as we approach this holiday season, it would be that peace would dwell in all of our lives and would shine out as a ray of light in this dark season, that we would set aside the busyness that the holiday sometimes brings and remember to reach out to those who are alone or have lost loved ones, that we would spread joy and peace to all those around us.

Winter...the Best Time of Year

This video clip captures the mountain culture in which I grew up absolutely perfectly. It somehow conjures up all kinds of bits and pieces of memory and feelings from my childhood. Perhaps it's because for years I skied at WH2O...spent many hours on her powdery slopes watching some of the best skiers in the world hotdogging down her cliffs. Perhaps we weren't quite as hippie as those portrayed in this film, but there certainly were a good deal of VW vans. And all of us experienced fishtailing on icy roads. It was all part of the thrill. And those straight skis! When's the last time you've seen those? We all learned on them.



Bill Heath, a local film maker, spent a good deal of his career learning from the father of ski filmmaking, Warren Miller. Last year I had the honour of viewing his newest film "Nine Winters Old," the stories of random snow lovers and their mountain experiences. The cinematography is stunning and you will see some of the best scenery this area has to offer. See trailer below.

It's Time for Tea

We have come upon those dreary days when one just wants to sit indoors with good friends and a cup of tea. Or perhaps one would prefer to take their tea and to snuggle up in front of a fire with a good book. The Chinese have a long history of tea drinking and have much to say about the subject. I thought the I would share a page from the Chinese Tea Reader "Ch'a-Su."

Suitable Moments for Drinking Tea

When we are interrupted while contemplating
During a good conversation deep into the night
When there is a light, soft drizzle
With agreeable friends and slim concubines
When the children are at school
In a bamboo grove on a spring evening
Under unusual rocks.

Unsuitable Moments

At the theatre
While opening letters
When the children are not at school
In torrential rain.

To Be Avoided When Drinking Tea

Sullen servants
Bad waters
Money worries
Large gatherings

The Twist

He found me shattered and broken.
Carefully he took my fragile heart,
then without warning, dropped it.

Last Tastes of Summer

The last taste of summer has now come and gone. Just a couple weeks ago I was still collecting these wild blackberries that lovingly transplanted themselves in my yard.

Everyone said, "Pull them out! They are a wild plant and hard to control. They will take over." But these blackberries knew exactly what they were doing. They were on the edge of my yard and gracefully hung themselves over the rock wall there. They basked all summer in the heat radiating off the rocks and have produced the sweetest most succulent crop of blackberries that I have ever tasted. I can't say that I got a ton. Just three large freezer bags. But of course that doesn't take into account all that I ate in between and for the first year, that's not bad. And they have since enjoyed being in salads, yogurt, and smoothies. I've thought about making jam, but the truth is that I don't use jam all that often and made a batch of apricot earlier in the year. Besides, I enjoy the tart explosion of flavour that these offer on their own. Now all that's really left are the elderberries, rose hips and a few wild apples.

There's No Place Like Home

Many a voyage has carried me far from home and I have seen numerous interesting sights. The whispers of adventure secretly seduce me at my every turn. They continually pull at my heartstrings drawing me on. But in truth, adventure and excitement never lurk far from the streets of Nelson. Summer is a special time here. Festivals and celebrations abound and bring out the masses. This past Friday was no exception, in fact, it was double the pleasure with the launch of Art Walk and one of numerous Market Street Fests in full swing.

Every summer Nelson's Art Walk invites locals and visitors alike to take a stroll downtown and view the very best work of local artists and craftspeople. Local businesses host the artists and shops and boutiques become instant galleries. They put on splendid receptions, wine, cheese and other appies. Everyone mulls about, snacking while chatting with the best artistic talent in the area.

Meandering back out onto the main street, I am confronted with the city's undeniable bohemian undercurrent. It's impossible not to be drawn in. The crowds, the music, the food, the entertainment...it's all there. I happened upon a troop of belly dancers with the emphasis on belly, at least for the woman who was eight months pregnant. I half expected her water to break during the course of the performance.

And then the motley of a band...an odder collection of musicians thrown together one just couldn't find, I'm quite sure. There was the yahoo cowboy, hat and all, the two who looked like they had just stepped out of Barvaria, the one with the punkish style hair, another who was a frat boy I'm sure. How they found each other must be a story within itself. But boy could they play music. It made us all want to dance right along. For your viewing pleasure, the following video snippets will almost transport you there. Now close your eyes and click the heels of those ruby slippers together. There truly is no place like home, at least not if your home is Nelson.

Fireworks

The day before last, nature gave us her own personal rendition of a symphony of fire. It had been a hot day with the mugginess mounting and reaching its peak by late afternoon. Then warm winds started rolling through the valleys with dark, ominous clouds dominating the skies, a sure sign that convection currents were at play.

Not long after, with darkened skies, the thunder started rolling and rumbling its way through the valley. It didn't take long for the storm to follow. I caught a couple pictures of the lightning striking the top of the mountain and in two instances flames and smoke roared up immediately. Luckily the rain seemed to be enough to quench the fires.

The choppers were flying about the next day scoping the area for any flames that still might be quietly smoldering, but we seem to be okay. It's still early in the season and we've had a cool and wet spring. Still, it all made for a good show and cooled off everything nicely.

Sakura

There are times when no words are necessary; when silence is our greatest ally.

April Fool's

Could someone tell me, is it true? Have we really passed the spring equinox? The weather seems to be a little confused these days and I think it's high time someone lets him know that spring was supposed to officially start almost a week and a half ago...this is what I woke up to this morning. Don't get me wrong, it's lovely, just not quite what I'd expect for April. I guess the groundhog must have seen his shadow this year.

This is Amrum

"You're a funny bird," laughs my sister, "You know, most birds head south for the winter. And what do you do? Winter comes along and you head straight north."

She's right you know. Just when almost everyone else is mourning the loss of those last summer rays and making their plans to grace those welcoming beaches in the south, I do an about face. I head out north on the autobahn zooming my way along until finally one by one the cars begin to disperse and it is no more. I am now on what amounts to not much more than a lonely country lane, yet still I forge on, urged by the gentle secret whispers of the North Sea. Long fields of flat farm land stretch out around me fringed by forested areas. Every so often I happen upon quaint red bricked houses with welcoming candles gracing the windows. And then, a small village with the same neatly organized quaint brick houses.

I continue past it all. The air grows thicker and mist periodically rests its heavy head upon the fields. The call of the sea is getting louder now. Soon I reach its edge, the very edge where it greedily swallows up the land and makes it disappear into its steely grey waters. But this is not where I want to stop. No, I want to ride the waves until I reach a speck of land that bravely pokes its towhead out of these icy waters and gulps for air. I want to wash upon its naked, lonely shores, be enveloped by its sandy dunes. I want to listen to the wind quietly whisper its secrets in my ear as it gently brushes the hair off my forehead and kisses my cheek. I want to bask in the pale winter sun, soaking up its cool rays. More than anything, I want the moment to stretch out into eternity with the promise of forever in the now, although ultimately I understand that it must cede its spot for another to take its place.

Fame

Well, apparently Blanche can hold her own in a beauty contest. Unbeknownst to me she went off and put herself out there with a bunch of other snowmen. She knew I probably wouldn't approve. But what is done is done. There's no going back now. In any case, one must strike while the iron is hot...or I guess before it gets hot, in the case of a snowman. A snowman's life is short so I admire her tenacity to seize the day and live life to the fullest. I just didn't know that a snowman's life could be so full. Apparently her dream was to see herself in glossy print, and now she's done just that and gone off there and put herself out there on the web too. At least she chose a respectable magazine: British Columbia Magazine. Check it out, and you will see what a busy girl she's been. I believe she's the third picture down. Rumour has it that she is now eying Broadway. I have my doubts about that one, but I must admit that I have yet to hear her sing and she has surprised me thus far. Who knew that a snowman's life could be so full?

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow

I have spent the past two days in what has felt like a snow globe, surrounded by large, white, fluffy flakes wafting down around me. Today I was supposed to head up to the hill to carve up some of that powder. Today, is the day that Red Mountain has a free ski day. There would be tons of people. It would be awesome. But alas, 'twas not to be. I woke up to a forecast of nasty rain warnings.

Ever the optimist, I piled on my ski attire and decided that they just couldn't' be right. I loaded all my equipment into the vehicle and set off with friends. The roads were a mess. They were a mixture of ice, snow, slush, water... nothing pleasant no matter what sort of snow tires one has. Oh, the conundrum. We decided to stop by the grocery store while contemplating to at least push one task out of the way. The produce manager was very chatty and had all sorts of opinions about the hill. What to do? What to do? I knew he was right. I've done the ski in rain before and decided that I'm at a point in my life where I can choose to be picky. We turned around.

Now I had the whole day ahead of me. I was up, it was early, I was dressed for the great outdoors. It seemed a pity to return home to simply crawl back into bed. But then our friend "Blanche" suggested we meet her at the beach. She's not one to hang out indoors. The heat makes her melt, she complains. She thought the weather was almost perfect to get some fresh air. She was optimistic that the sun would show up and we could catch a few rays. She also suggested a polar bear dip, but the rest of us were a little hesitant. So instead, we frolicked in the snow and generally had a very merry time.

Imagine

Imagine. You drive into Horseshoe Bay, join the queue, and then turn off your engine. You are off on a great adventure. You get out of your vehicle and take a little stroll while you wait. You pass a mother with her child. You hear the child exclaim, “But Mom, you said we were going to see a fairy. All I see is a big boat.” You chuckle to yourself as you continue on. Time passes quickly and the next thing you know, you’re boarding that big boat. You cover your ears as the horn blasts loudly. The boat leaves the terminal. It meanders its way along the coast, through the islands and across the straight. You pass numerous abodes: large houses, estates, mansions, little cottages, cabins and make-shift shelters. They dot the hills and cliffs. You wonder about the people who live there, where they work, what they do, who they are, these people who are so tied to the water, so exposed to the elements. Water, water, water, water, water. Wind. The ferry approaches the other side. We are now nearing the Nanaimo terminal. You patiently wait to be signaled off. You disembark. You drive through the town and head north on the Island Highway. You continue along following the pack of cars that came before you. Slowly they disperse along the way. Just north of Parksville, you take the Highway 4 exit towards Port Alberni. You drive along the narrow, winding, twisty highway across the island.
You take in the views of snow capped mountains and rushing streams as you traverse the passes. You travel through dense forests where the trees loom high overhead obstructing the few rays of autumn sunshine fighting to get through. You pull over into a small parking lot alongside the highway. This is Cathedral grove.

You get out of your vehicle and stare in awe at these ancient towering giants some of which are 800 plus years old. The huge branches stretch out above draped majestically with moss. The largest tree in this particular grove has a circumference of 9 metres and stands a proud 76 metres high. It was once much taller, but its top snapped off in a horrific windstorm in 1997. It is still, however, a sight to behold. The air seems denser, thicker, moister. Your breathing is as slow and calm as the zephyr which gently moves through the trees. You listen to the forest speak. You take in its noises, you breathe its peace. You are transported to a place where time doesn’t exist. It doesn’t matter. After thoughtful meditation, you decide to continue on to your final destination. You pull out of the parking lot and onto the winding highway a much calmer you. You continue along towards BC’s rugged west coast. Before you even get there, you can almost smell the salt in the air. You finally have it…your first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean.

You pull into the famed Long Beach with its miles of pristine sand. You rush from your vehicle and head straight for the crashing waves. You follow the thundering roar of the surf and disappear into the sheets of ocean mist. You spend the remainder of the afternoon exploring the coves and beach, checking out the tidal pools, watching a few brave surfers ride the giant curling waves, following the shore birds, mesmerized by it all. You end it all with a glorious west coast sunset.

Summer is Over

There is nothing like the crisp, sunny autumn days where feelings of summer continue to lurk in our subconscious. Cold nights are followed by warm days. The light hint of gold in the trees lures us to wonderful paths that wind up the mountainside providing superb views over the expanse of forests to the peaks beyond. It's hard to not cherish the near deserted beaches and the clear blue skies.

That describes most of September...summer hardly around the corner. In fact, scarcely two weeks ago daytime temperatures reached almost 30 C. During that time I was busy collecting and stashing like that greedy, chatty squirrel in my parents back yard. I pillaged my father's garden, at his request, of course. Mainly, I harvested a large portion of the remaining basil. Nothing quite like the sweet aroma of a large bouquet of basal in the kitchen. Most of it went into a few batches of pesto that are now in my freezer.

Now on the eve of October, it feels more like November. This morning the mountain tops were lightly dusted with the white stuff. Since then it's been dreary and wet. I'd rather sit in front of the fire wrapped in my quilt, drinking cocoa and reading a good novel than even slightly peek my nose out of doors. I still have a few vegetable in my own garden which should be brought in soon. Of course I'd like to think that I'm still going to have a sunny day or two over the next few weeks to complete some of those outdoor chores.