Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Damsel


We have many dragonflies here and some strange ones indeed. However, this is a simple and straightforward type, probably a damsel-fly, caught inside the window on a sunny day.
Sandra

Time Traveling





This mornings' downpour brought out the David Niven types!
As I looked out the kitchen window, I thought I was transported back a few years, and drawn into "Around the World in 80 Days", with the loveliest old British racing car in the drive, holding 2 handsome men. The passenger (John) jumped out and asked for a brief tour of the study. The driver (John's son, Duncan) parked the car and 'zipped' the cover over the cockpit and seats.

They explained the tour they are part of...
Dozens of similar cars, shipped to Vancouver from around the world, are involved in a 3 - week tour from Vancouver north to Dawson City and within the Arctic Circle. They traveled up through the Rockies, then back down to Vancouver via B.C.'s interior and secondary roads. Next, they drove to Vancouver Island, and have been up and down the island. Now on their way back to Vancouver (city), with stops to visit other car enthusiasts in Parksville (also on the island), these two fly-fishers decided to pull in here to visit Roddy's place.
It was all quite exciting, and I believe they left far too soon! Here's hoping they and the family can find time to return as guests and have a more in-depth tour.
Sandra

Top photo: unzipping to get into the cockpit.
Second photo: John as passenger
Third photo: Duncan driving, and John
Fourth photo: Departing out the driveway

Running Girl



The lovely Sarah, the latest house-guest, was here for a couple of days. Traveling alone (her friend took ill at the last moment), she seemed to enjoy the trails plus the wildlife-boat tour for several hours along the coastal shores. Photographing her was easy as she's very pretty (and single, I hear, guys!) and stays fit.
Thanks, Sarah, for your visit; I really enjoyed our conversations. Hope you enjoyed Long Beach!
Sandra

Monday, June 22, 2009

Happy 45th Anniversary, Don & Sandy!



Don and Sandy, from interior Washington state, were here for 2 nights celebrating their 45th wedding anniversary. They were given this as a gift from the Methow (pronounced 'mettow') Valley Fly Fishing Club, Washington, of which Don's a very active member.
From the moment they arrived, I was impressed by Don's knowledge and enthusiasm for Roddy and his writing. Thus far I've been honest about what I do not know on the subject of the Haig-Browns, and Don felt duty-bound in pressing me into that end of service! Many times I repeated, "I don't know, but I'll find out" and no doubt he'll hold me to it - won't you Don?
Once again I saw a passion in the eyes of a fisherman who held a Roderick Haig-Brown book in his hands as a young man. I'm beginning to understand the force which held the reader of Silver or Panther or Measure of the Year and shaped a young man's dreams and vision and career to come.
Don looked at me several times with that force as it emanated from his heart and soul. He told me of visiting the property here 5+ years ago, before it was a Bed & Breakfast, and he had walked down the formal lawn to the riverbank, believing that was where Rod himself would have fished. Don had stood there and wept, having made this pilgrimage of sorts and finally seeing what Rod would have seen - and loved.
Don and I and his wife Sandy spoke at length on the reasons for fishing, specifically fly-fishing, and the reasoning for its impact on the soul of a man, or woman. We all agree that it's so much more than just catching a fish. There's that meditative sense, the cool embrace of fresh air, seeing places which are gifts to see or seeing them at rare times of day, standing in the pulse of the earths' circulatory system, smelling rain or sun, and knowing where your food really comes from. Oh, and once in a while you bring that food home.
We also spoke of the skill and practice in fly-fishing, something I'm beginning to look forward to (I've only practiced casting a couple of times) and we talked of how not to be a fly-fishing snob and instead, being aware - aware of what it takes to acquire a skill, and all that the word 'skill' implies.
On another note, I apparently had on my intuitive antennae and sent them to the 'perfect' places for meals and other entertainment, i.e. our Museum @ Campbell River.
I'm delighted with having met this lovely, gracious couple who make such scintillating conversation. Thanks, you 2, for being here. Have a safe and enjoyable journey home to that beautiful place in the mountains. And, Sandy, "Thank You!" Wotta sweetheart!
hugs to you both
Sandra

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Look up... bzzt... waaay up






Seems the wildlife is getting wilder, 'specially in the greenhouse.
Yesterday morning, I happened to look up... waaayy up... and found these critters in a rafter of the greenhouse, creating one of the biggest wasp nests I had ever seen. It was the size of a cabbage and growing, and they were the quietest clutch of wasps. I didn't hear them; I simply thought I'd better look up, as it had been days since I had done so.
Wow!

There are red arrows in the photos to show the openings of the nest.

No doubt they could sense my hackles going up, as my skin tingled and I tippy toed out the door, because suddenly I could hear them. Or was that my Spidey Sense kicking in?

Anyhoo, I called Marcy, the gardener; she would know what to do - and, after she and her husband quit laughing, she told me, though I didn't like it. Aiming to keep the grounds chemical-free, this is the plan: you wait until dark, as the wasps are quiet then and somewhat docile in the cool. Then you zap the nest with water from a hose (in the dark! No flashlight, as that will alarm them) and keep on zapping the downed nest with the hose - in the dark.

Oh, did I mention you do this ALL in the dark? Well, since it's about the summer solstice, I waited til 10:30 pm to go out, dressed as I was in my wasp-fighting combat gear; you know, all black, long sleeves tucked into rubber gloves, pants tucked into thick sox, hat, neckerchief... er, right? Isn't that what all crime-fighters, er, I mean, bug-fighters wear?
Just one more thing, said Marcy; there's a guard. A what? A guard; it stays outside on the nest, and raises the alarm if they're endangered.
Oh. Great!
Sure enough, at 10:30 at the summer solstice, the sky is still light, and I could see the silhouette of the nest, PLUS as I ever so slowly opened the sliding glass door of the greenhouse, the guards' silhouette appeared on the edge. The position of the wings made it seem like an animal with ears flattened.
Then, within seconds, there were a dozen or more crawling all over the nest. I stopped.
Somehow this just did not sit well with me, and the hackles once again rose to attention - mine and theirs.

I foresaw myself flailing around in the dark, hose and water going wild as I tossed it at the oncoming horde , me trying to run out of the garden, flinging the gate as I ran, tripping on the uneven ground, finally crawling to the house and, upon closing the door, I would look back only to realize the deer would now enter the open gate (and greenhouse) and eat every single thing in there.

hmmm... I decided to go to bed (and have a worrisome, sleepless night because of this) and call my brother in the morning. He would be able to help, fearless man that he is!

Little did I know, he IS the expert! Funny what you learn of your family, even after all these years. Paul showed up, even dressed in his nice weekend clothes, and proceeded to do exactly what I was told to do, and in the middle of a hot day, when the wasps are at their height of activity!
It's unfortunate I had to go out for an hour, as that's when Paul took care of business so I was not witness to it. Therefore, I'm unsure if he was as unruffled as he says he was... Upon my return, he coolly told me the nest was in the compost, no chemicals had been used, and now the tomatoes were watered because of the fray. And, that he had done this many times before, and still hasn't been stung. Sure enough, there was the broken and wet nest, with hundreds (!) of wasps ready to hatch.
Whew!
Thanks big brother; I owe you big time.
Just one more thing; they're baaaack. Yes, they've tried re-building twice now, and I've sprayed the new bits of nest off both times. Where is the queen in all this?! She must be pretty powerful to keep these guys (girls?) going in the same spot over and over. Ah well, I'll go out and spray them with the hose again late tonight. Maybe they'll get the message. And I'll spray them at dawn tomorrow morning, just to enforce the message. And I'll get Paul back here, you guys, if you don't get the message!
Sandra

Friday, June 19, 2009

Bambi

You might think this is a great photo of a tree! But look closer...

Yesterday, I spotted another brown movement on the drive just below the kitchen window, and, once again, a fawn was passing through the driveway. Alone, it seemed unsure of which way to go, turning one way then the other. Finally it literally tip-toed into the path in to the glade. Yes, tip-toed. Putting its head lower, as if sniffing the air, then gingerly putting out a foot (hoof?) and slowly putting the other front foot out, one slow step, then another, as if sneaking up on the pathway, it finally disappeared beyond the hedge and into the glade.

I grabbed my camera and quietly went out the squeaky door and walked up the driveway, where I took these photos. The fawn, about 2' feet high, seemed uncertain and nervous and obviously alone. No idea where Momma was, and little fawn turned to go into the wood beyond. I quickly left so as not to scare it onto the road.
This is one of three fawns I've seen lately. I believe the ladies, Buttercup and Clover, are the new mothers, tho it's hard to tell one from another.
I'm looking forward to getting some photos of the 2 and 3 year old bucks which have been striding through here lately. They still have velvet on their new antlers and the pair I've seen move quickly, heading either to or from the river.
Sandra

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

The Perfumed Air









The gardens are a never-ending source of pleasure.
Finally it rained heavily last night, and today the ground was saturated and the trees and gardens were humid in the heat. This also holds the wonderful scents of the trees and shrubs, plus the thick perfume of the flowers. Once again, I wish I could convey those beautiful scents to you. You'll have to settle for more photos...
Sandra

and now, for your pleasure...











Enjoying the colours, scents and simple beauty that flowers can bring; for your enjoyment, here is what I found...

Kingston Couple



The very kind and gentle Carol and Roger from Kingston, Ontario visited a couple of days ago. They're now on the Aurora Explorer, venturing around the coast as the cargo vessel hauls supplies into and out of remote places on our rugged mainland coast. If they find the time to re-visit here - and we're all hoping they will - I'll certainly update with their adventures!
Sandra

Garden Singing

Plants are growing
Guests are coming & going
Fawns are showing
Learners are just a learning
Can't you hear the birds a singing
Trying to learn that song!

The veg patch has its ups and downs. Perhaps my thumb is more purple or blue than green... one eggplant has succumbed to something, and I think it got a cucumber as well (talk about Invasion of the Plant Snatchers!) - several lines of carrot seedlings have mysteriously disappeared (hmmm... I reiterate...) - a row of unnamed Chinese vegetable has gone south as well, and a whole 2 rows of volunteer potatoes have sprung up! Luckily, those last ones have sprung up in the last unweeded, unplanted corner.
Hey, wait a minute! Do potatoes eat other veggies?!

Couple of new items in the veg patch: I framed the tripod of tangled walnut branches (see photo) and planted a fave of mine, nasturtiums, underneath. Soon the whole thing will be climbing with them!
I know that's poor grammar, but I liked it, just like my little song at the beginning. It's a bit of a take on an old song with lines like,
"...bells are ringin'
Secretary's singin'
Preacher's justa preachin'
Can't ya hear the sisters shoutin'
Tryna learn that song..."

The bush beans are going great guns, and I replaced that orange plastic fencing along the snow peas with good old wire (see photo).
My wonderful big brother, Paul, planted some small sunflower plants for me today as well; I made lunch.
Sandra

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Adventurous All Ages



Some adventurous guests have been here this past week...

Caroline, a.k.a. 'Caro', and Chris, the beautiful Brits from Guernsey, were kayaking for 5 days off Quadra Island (a 10 minute ferry ride from Campbell River) and exclaiming about their excursions, the wildlife, the food (how could I compete with breakfast Hollandaise sauce prepped over a campfire?!), and the weather.
They had the best of all worlds, and the enjoyment they expressed was delightful. Hope you two had an uneventful and safe flight home, and will consider a small detour via Campbell River on your honeymoon.

Tony and Gail made the trip from Oregon specifically to visit the Haig-Brown property. Seems Tony's boyhood was so inspired by Roddy Haig-Brown and his writing that Tony pursued a career with environment and conservation, plus became the fisherman he is today.
His eyes lit up when he saw Roddy's books in the study, as he looked upon Roddy's hand-made desk and the words he wrote there (in long-hand) and saw the detail of the flies which Rod tied at that desk. I was touched and inspired by Tony and his passion.
The one evening they stayed here, I escorted them through the study after dinner, which was also after dark. Since daylight makes such a difference, I suggested another visit in the morning before they leave. Gail took me aside, looked at me with determination and said, "Oh, yes, please. Tony would love that very, very much!" She showed a devotion reminiscent of another woman who once resided here...
Gail's discipline is apparent - as a retired teacher, she related some of her own adventures of taking courses plus teaching around the world. There may be few countries she has not explored. The final fact which greatly impressed me was her health; into her 60's, she's a marathoner. Yes, runs marathons, all 26+ miles of them, all over the place. Name a city, and she's probably done it. Way to go, Gail! Do come back, you 2!
Sandra

Saturday, June 13, 2009

"Deep Currents" - thank you Valerie



This book is a must-have for those interested in Roddy Haig-Brown, Ann Elmore Haig-Brown, Campbell River, conservation in B.C., and their histories.

Reading the romantic biography of Roddy & Ann Haig-Brown entitled, "Deep Currents" has been a warm and cozy ride on the way-back machine. Their eldest daughter, Valerie (picture by Jim Coutts, from the books' dust jacket), has written a lovely account of her parents via their prolific and detailed letters. From their births, formative years, families, adventures and educations, meeting each other in a book store, and the deep devotion which is apparent within the words written to each other, Valerie has laboured over a most beautiful piece which brings me to tears at least every chapter. I'll be finished within days and do not want it to end.
Highly recommended for those who wish to 'understand' the lives lived within the enigma.
Sandra

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Wonderful Guests

Some of my lovely guests this last week were Kim and her mom, Phyllis - from B.C.'s lower mainland (just completing a 5-day cruise aboard the working vessel, "Aurora", which carries cargo to camps and villages in the remote coastal areas), plus Bob and Chris - from Rugby, England - also winding up a 6-week whirlwind tour of western Canada. I neglected to get a photo of Kim & Phyllis (sorry girls!) but remembered to get one of the Englishman and his lovely wife.
Lots of laughs over that crazy coffeepot incident (or 3!)! No, I won't forget it for awhile...
Sandra

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Bathing the Fish





The little goldfish in the pond are receptive to me now. As I approach, they swim toward me and school around that side, waiting, I'm sure, for me to turn on the tap.

Bath time for the fish.

They struggle and swim into the little current the showering water creates, then go 'round the pond following the current as it moves the water. I try to do this twice a day to make sure it's aerated / oxygenated and fill it to the brim. It's this last act that makes them such smarty-pants - the goldfish can now swim over the plant leaves and rest there. Something new to them, it looks like a game of chicken to me; one rests there, looking like a kid saying, "I'm the king of the castle..." and all that goes with the taunting, until another comes along to push it out of the throne.

The rest of the time the fish go low and use the plants to stay out of the sun.
They are goldfish; research shows they are not koi, which are less hardy and more susceptible to disease. That's why you probably had a goldfish in a little bowl when you were a kid; they didn't die easily when you forgot to feed them. As well, the goldfish are adaptable to less oxygen in the water, which happens in a pond. And also why I bathe the fish. Puts little smiles on their faces.

The Haig-Brown's had the pond put in many years ago when they returned from a trip to Italy. Quite taken with terraces and all things terra-cotta, this grassy corner became the terrazza; squares of concrete for the floor outlined with moss or gravel, then the pond (apparently with a slope to create a deep end) surrounded with terra cotta bricks embedded into the concrete, upon which are more terra cotta pots full of flowers. It's quite lovely at just about any time of day, even in the dark with candles lit.
Sandra

Dear Daisy Deer

It's decided then; the doe who is so friendly is now Daisy... Daisy Deer, no matter how many buttercups she eats, and I'll tell you why.
While I gardened all day yesterday in the veg patch, Daisy sauntered alongside the fence, then meandered over to the shade of the firs & maples, then wandered back toward me, then slowly disappeared out the drive. Ergo, no fawn, and I found myself calling her Daisy all day. So, that's her name.

But Baby butts in...
While reading the paper over coffee at the kitchen table this morning, I thought I spied a small brown dog bouncing through the driveway right alongside the house; I was wrong.
It was the new fawn! Bounce, bounce, bounce, one way, then bounce, bounce, bounce, the other way, then back, then big bounces back to the path and into the glade. I went outside to peer into the glade, and saw the little one nursing with mom - who I automatically addressed as Buttercup. She was nervous. Seems a bouncing little baby is a handful, er, hoof-ful (sp?)... anyway, not wanting to disturb breakfast or scare them off toward the road, I left them to the cool and shade. A few hours later, I did notice both of them now bouncing around in the upper part of the driveway, and scooting back to the glade; someone was returning from walking their dog in one of the upper paths. Let's hope Buttercup is careful to show rambunctious Baby how to cross the road.

No pic's today. Many B & B guests tonight, and lots of drop-ins today to survey the grounds, both for Sunday afternoons and future weddings... looks like it'll be a beautiful summer full of brides!
Sandra

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Buttercup? or Clover?


Not sure if there are 2 doe's (which is highly likely) or 1 doe who hides her fawn...

Two days ago, I watched a doe rather restlessly lying under the maple in the shade, no doubt feeling the record-breaking heat; she then sauntered along the driveway. By late afternoon, I was escorting a couple of ladies who had dropped in for a tour. As I pointed out the cooler glade beyond the rhodos, we saw a doe rise up and then the tiniest fawn follow her, on what seemed to be wobbly legs. The doe immediately went into the wood, and the fawn giggled along behind.
Then last evening, this doe (pictured) was easily grazing in the buttercupped and clovered field of the orchard. She wasn't nervous at all, and allowed me to get very close, about 12 feet, so perhaps she's not the new mother. No matter; she's just as pretty, though my view of her did darken as I watched her attempt to eat roses through the fence!
Now, to decide which is which, and whether to name them. I chose 'Buttercup' for this one, and perhaps 'Clover' for the new mom, should I spy her again.
What name do you prefer?

As I write this, I observe a rabbit in the same field of buttercups and clover. Perhaps they're showing up again because the weather has cooled; during the last week of 30+ Celsius / 90+ Farenheit, I hadn't seen any and suspected they were cooling off in the underbrush or gone on holiday to the lake (hah). Now the one I'm watching is busy feeding in the field and making its way toward the vegetable garden. Guess it's time to go weeding!
Sandra

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Game On!




Praise the sports of the land
And water, each one -
The bath by the beach, or the yacht on the sea.
But of all the sweet pleasures
Known under the sun
A good game of Croquet's
The sweetest to me.

- Thomas Mayne Reid


"It is no game for the soft of sinew and the gentle of spirit. The higher and dirtier croquet player can use the guile of a cobra and the inhumanity of a boa constrictor."

- Alexander Humphreys Woollcott

________________________________________________________________________

Queen of Hearts
: Now, where do you come from?
Alice
: Well, I'm trying to find my way home...

Queen of Hearts
: Your way? All ways here are my ways!
Alice
: Yes, I know, but I was just thinking...

Queen of Hearts
: Curtsy while you're thinking. It saves time.
Alice:
[curtsying] Your Majesty, but I just wanted to ask you..

Queen of Hearts
: I'll ask the questions! Do you play croquet?
Alice
: Why, yes, Your Majesty.

Queen of Hearts: Then let the game begin!

_______________________________________________________
cro·quet
(krō kā) noun

  1. an outdoor game in which the players use mallets to drive a wooden ball through a series of hoops placed in the ground
  2. the act of croqueting
Etymology: Fr, dial. form of crochet: see crotchet
transitive verb, intransitive verb croqueted -·queted′ (-kād), croqueting -·quet′·ingin croquet, to drive away (an opponent's ball) by hitting one's own which has been placed in contact with it

__________________________________________________________________________
A canon of American croquet has always been, to quote Archie Peck, 'A better tactician will always beat a better shooter.'
__________________________________________________________________________

Croquet Time!

Ya think?!

That's enough of the clues; now here's the down-low...
(but I just wanna know - who the heck is Archie Peck?!)

The Museum at Campbell River summer interns - wait for it - Tye, Tyson, and Taryn (truly!) are raring to show all a good time with Croquet & Tea on the Lawn at HBH. Sundays will be the day to play, or picnic as you watch your playmates swinging about the yard, aiming mallets and hoping for straight-through-the-wicket shots.

It's obvious to me that my knowledge of the game is sorely lacking, so I set out to learn something regarding the rules. It was quickly apparent that there are quite a few to choose from!
See for yourself...

  • "North American Six Wicket Rules, as used by Croquet Canada and developed by the U.S. Croquet Association."
  • or, if you're from across the pond, perhaps "Association Rules from The Croquet Association (England)"
  • or maybe you're a golfer! Even better, as there's now a game called, "Golf Croquet... with rules, as used by Croquet Canada and USCA..."
  • And I hasten to add the "Nine Wicket Rules: Backyard Variety, as used by Croquet Canada", though that could not be for professionals! It simply wouldn't be cricket!
  • And lastly, don't let me forget the "U.S. Croquet Association: Rules of Several Forms".

So, if someone challenges your way of playing the game, may I suggest you offer them a litany of choices and then leg wrestle for the outcome. That might be the only rule you'll both be familiar with.
And while you're at it, visit these websites, in case you have a hankering for the pro circuit.
www.croquet.ca
www.croquetworld.com

Sandra





Loving Honour



The delightful Pam and David were my guests on Monday evening. When they first called, speaking with such joy and English charm, I thought they must be on their honeymoon because they sounded so happy and adventurous. Upon their arrival, they bounced up the stairs, had fun choosing a room, then breathlessly inquired after a restaurant, and smiled and laughed on their way out the door to eat. I had to know more. When they returned I served herbal tea on the terrace, lit candles, and, under the moon, asked of themselves. Married 17 years (and it sounds like they're older than me, tho they certainly look a lot younger!) it sounds like they've traveled the world and enjoyed every moment. David tells funny and amazing stories with his sharp wit; Pamela is a wonderful and well-respected artist (www.PamelaKnight.net) and the two are great company. What was most noticeable was the warm and loving way they treated each other; there was a deep and gentle honour I could feel between them.
Pam and David, thank you for choosing Haig-Brown House! I thoroughly enjoyed your visit here, and I do hope you return some day.
Here's your picture, taken by Marcy, our intrepid gardener.
Sandra

Ev'n Song






The weekend was a blast, as well as a blast of energy, so it's nice to have a day at the posted speed limit!


Actually, that 'day' began last evening, while I was putting the veggie garden to bed. The ev'n song of the robins echoed in the dusk, the doe strolled through the driveway on her way to the stream and I do believe there were bats flitting about, hunting bugs.

Here's a shot of the orchard last evening (once again, 6 images stitched together for a very wide view) from the garden gate. At about the middle is the house, hidden behind branches; to the right is the cabin, built within several years of the house (late 1920's), and between them and a bit lower is the compost.
I point this out because the top of that slope was once a rail grade, before the Pidcock brothers bought the property and built the house.
Around the end of the 1800's, most of these areas were logged and the companies delivered the logs via rail cars to a depot known as a 'log dump' several kilometres east of here. There, the logs were 'dumped' into the water to be graded and valued, then bundled and rafted together in 'booms' to be delivered to sawmills along the coast.

I'm tracking down information on when the rail bed was dismantled; the house was built in 1923 and apparently the rail tracks were gone then. I'll keep you posted on my findings.

Pictured here are some of the newest arrivals in the garden - beans and peas. The peas reach for that bright orange netting which they'll cling to as they climb.
The beans? Not so lucky. As bush beans, they're expected to fend for their own stature, with no leg up, tho in the photo one is overseeing the newly broken ground of its brethren. Perhaps that's how they make it, after all.

A couple more images...
A last fleeting moment with bleeding hearts (their season is finished) which managed to poke through the very invasive mint, and hang a pendulous bunch of florets, now going to seed.
And a glorious blast of fireworks-style colour, courtesy of the rhodo jungle(!) in the centre of the driveway. Also in that shot are the white froth of the commonly-known-as 'bridal wreath' (Spirea vanhoutte) plus a cascade or 2 of yellow wisteria, brought together in a whisper of evening warmth. Rabbits were watching me from beneath the cover of the rhododendron...
Sandra