Elizabeth

The charming and beautiful grand-daughter of Rod and Ann Haig-Brown - Elizabeth - was here a while back.

I took this photo when she returned from a workout. Fit and fun, she (smart-girl) brought her bike from Vancouver to use while here.
Of course, the HBH is only minutes from downtown by bicycle, and simply minutes from almost any other point of interest in this area.

As a devoted member of the Haig-Brown Institute, it was only natural Elizabeth should work in the study while here for a couple of days. While here, she was also very helpful with our wireless computer system.

She entertained me with stories of her grand-parents and family, and commented on how things might have looked or been arranged while Ann and Roddy were here, which I found quite fascinating.
Her comments made me see through another point of view just how the house might have felt or been lived in...
Sandra

Adventures in Friendship

From the start it was obvious they were not a couple, simply good friends having a really great time traveling up the wet (yes, I said wet) coast.

Andrew and Louise were here from Melbourne, Australia for a couple of nights, exploring Vancouver Island as they headed north.

Pictured here, at the river in front of HBH, Louise is dutifully holding a brochure from the house. Attagirl!

Having landed in L.A. (after a grueling 30 hours on the plane!) they traveled north and weren't intending to turn until Prince Rupert, when their trail would head east toward the big parks in the Rockies.

As a first for me, I unfortunately managed to misplace a T-shirt while doing their laundry, which I found just an hour after they left. I'm returning it, post-haste!

Meanwhile, have a great time in Canada and come back again, although next time, you might want to push me aside and do the laundry yourselves...
Sandra

"As A Driven Leaf"

Finally! This post was postponed as I waited on a particular library title - "As A Driven Leaf" by Milton Steinberg, with forward by Chaim Potok.
Skimming the forward and the prologue, I can't wait to read it!

Steinberg, "a Conservative Rabbi in New York, wrote (in 1939) this fictionalized account of an early Talmudic sage in ancient Jerusalem, around 132 C.E. (aka Common Era, or A.D.). However, most scholars, including Potok, believe this drama - a conflict between religious and pagan ideas, between faith and reason, between postulates of creed and science - believe this to be the story of Steinberg himself... and his hero was a heretic." [sic]

Theology, its evolution, history, and its impact on its followers are simply magnetic to me.

Why believe what we do?

Why believe anything at all?

Why worry about it all so much?

Take Dan Brown's titles, The DaVinci Code and Angels and Demons, and their current popularity. It's obvious we have a fascination and inquisitive bent toward the layers which comprise those cakes of religions and the tart flavours of politics within - enough so that feature films are created on the theme.

I digress from my guests, tho. These vivacious people (left to right) Penny, Mike, Debbie and Steve, all medical professionals, stayed overnight after a Broughton Archipeligo kayak trip. Delightful, energetic, and very interested in the titles within the HBH library, they inspected a tome or two and the conversation turned to the above mentioned title, as Steve was currently reading it.

I was smitten and immediately ordered it from the local public library.

The foursome were simply delightful in their enthusiasm toward life, and all things to challenge. Quite a competitive bunch, I'd say, from the avid and active breakfast conversations! (Paddle harder, Mike!)
I was very glad to have had you all at the house, with such energy and smiles to spare.

Thanks for choosing HBH; I hope you'll return sometime!

Sandra

Ginger and Gold Plum Jam

When I was just 3 feet away from a raccoon with a plum in its mouth, I figured it was time to pick...

...standing in the kitchen, I turned toward the window which the Gold Plum Tree leans against. The tree-trunk is a foot from the glass and there, putting a second plum in its mouth so it could retreat, was a raccoon in broad daylight. Nimbly, it went down the plum tree - head first!

Well, I squawked and, within hours, had 2 buckets of the beautiful fruit - and a glowing sunburn.


Early next morning, with the ladder restored to its place, a couple of plums still in the tree for the wildlife, and the picked plums washed and measured, I found a Ginger & Plum Jam recipe which seemed to call for a lesser amount of sugar. Since I'm not the expert jam-maker, I don't really know what the right amount is, though prefer to use less of the white stuff.

But now I know why there's so much; without the sugar, it's a bit like syrup instead of jam-firm. Never mind; it's still great!






For those wanting to give it a try, here's the recipe, which I made three batches of.

Plum Ginger Jam or Ginger Plum Jam
4 lbs ripe purple-skinned plums, pitted and cut into 1-inch pieces (about 24 plums)
(*note: I used Golden Plums, unpitted, as they are clingstone, and measured 4 hefty cups instead of weight)
1/4 cup water
3 cups sugar
1 cup peeled, coarsely grated fresh ginger
1 cup candied ginger

Combine plums and water in a Dutch oven, and bring to a boil.
(*note: I used a very heavy bottomed pot; this helped prevent scorching)
Reduce heat, and simmer, uncovered, 20 minutes or until tender.
Stir in sugar and ginger.

Cook over medium heat 40 minutes, until thick or a candy thermometer reaches about 210.

Stir mixture occasionally. Do not overcook or mixture will scorch.

At this point you can cool it and store in an airtight container in the refrigerator up to 2 weeks.

And that's where the original recipe ends.
However, this is what I did:

I poured the mix into a colander and put on the rubber gloves.

Wading through the still hot jam, I strained the pits out with my hands and the use of the colander.

Pouring the mixture into jars while the lids were boiling in a pot of water on the stove, the end was in sight! By this time, the busy day had stretched into the afternoon, the temperature in the kitchen was around 90ºF+ and I, like my wicked sister, was melting, Melting, MELTING!

Next: instead of using a hot-water bath to seal the jars, I put them in the dishwasher. hmmm...
Yes, that's a tricky bit of business. Not all of the jars sealed, and those that did not are in the fridge and will be eaten post-haste - guaranteed! In future I'll use the hot-water bath on the stove.

Final step: labels. I make most of my own, and just happened to be doing some artsy-fartsy photos in the back yard with slow shutter speeds, blowing leaves, and a sunset. At right is the page of labels, now on most of the jars.

All in all, I'm very happy with the product - mostly because I've made something edible which is from the place here, and I survived! Yay!
Sandra

The Days Are Just Packed

Wowee, have I been away from the blog!

Hard to believe it's been 2 weeks since I've posted anything, and I've missed it! I like writing, yet it seems to be the last thing on the TO - DO list.

Way too many
photos to take
people to meet
things to discuss
swims to take
weddings to go to
books to read


watermelons to eat
BBQ's to attend
kids to play with
naps to take
animals to feed...

Hey, that all sounds like a whole lotta fun. And it has been.

I've titled this post after a Calvin and Hobbes book which has the 2 of them on the front cover (under a summery tree by a fishin' pond, and next to the obviously crashed and trashed red wagon) deeply asleep in a sound afternoon nap.



Ahhh, yawn... and so it goes.
Hope you're enjoying your summer as well!
Sandra

p.s. Thanks to Lars, my house-guest and model. Good job on the hard work!

Ladies Who Lunch or "Ladies Who Tea & Croquet"

Babs (that's Barbra Streisand to the rest of you) has typified the gloved, upright-pinky-finger, teacup-holding social classiness of particular women. Awash in chiffon and feathers, they lunch with their friends, and are immortalized in her song called "Pretty Women / Ladies Who Lunch".



HBH has ladies who may not be lunching but laugh and giggle over tea and scones.
And then they play croquet!



Last Sunday, the colours around here were magnificent - scarlet, magenta, fuschia, royal, and ruby...
The ladies wore pearls, diamonds and gemstones, and sported feathers, birds, lace and organza. And those girls (dare I call them 'girls'?!) played croquet with the gusto of seasoned Sicillians at Bocce or Boules.
Having such fun I would not have been surprised to see one of them light up a cigarillo and take a turn at a flask.



Perfetto!



Croquet is hosted at HBH several more times - August 2nd and 15th - by the summer students from The Museum at Campbell River. Reservations can be made by calling the Museum - 250-287-3103.
Sandra



Pretty women
Fascinating
Sippin coffee
Dancing, pretty women
Pretty women
Are a wonder, pretty women
Sitting in the window or
Standing on the stair
Something in them cheers the air
Pretty women
Silhouetted
Stay within you
Glancing stay forever
Breathing lightly, pretty women,
Pretty women
Blowing out their candles or
Combing out their hair
Even when they leave
They still are there
They're there

Sipping coffee
Here's to the ladies who lunch
Everybody Laugh
Lounging in their caftans and
Planning a brunch
On their own behalf
Off to the gym
Then to a fitting,
Claiming they're fat
And looking grim,
Cause they've been sitting
Choosing a hat
I'll drink to that!

Pretty women, fascinating
How they make a man sing...

Ornithology

That energetic bird-watcher, Glen, was here with his wife, Elizabeth, as they stopped over on their way back to the lower mainland. Having just finished the ferry trip from Bella Bella, where they visited his sister, to Port McNeil, they were then driving south to catch another ferry at Nanaimo.

Glen knew birds just from their song or the faintest of colour variation on a wing-tip. I was very impressed.

He was also up very early the next morning to go for more bird-watching, while Elizabeth slept.

A charming and engaging couple, we had very interesting conversations! Whether in the study, over breakfast, or at the picnic table outside, I greatly enjoyed them all!

Glen, thank you for the pocket bird book you left me. I'm still in awe of your ornithological expertise. However, according to some, bird-watching is not ornithology, tho an ornithologist has to watch a bird.
Sandra

Coffeecake & CREW

Recently a group of ladies known as CREW (Campbell River Educated Women) came to enjoy my fresh baked brownies and morning coffee. Most of them, though long-time Campbell Riverites, hadn't toured the beautiful grounds or heard of the Haig-Browns' subtle impact on this lovely city. It was a fun and interesting morning for me, as that is one of the pleasurable duties of my position as manager. It was as enjoyable for me as it was for them.
I look forward to serving up coffee, cake, and history again.
Sandra

Güeta Morga!

I know how to say, "Good morning!" in Swiss / German now, thanks to the newlyweds from Switzerland.

Thomas and Karin - the loveliest young couple - have been in Canada for a couple of weeks, and plan on a few more days.

Truly explorers, they drove over from Calgary, planning on looking at the island from top to bottom and side to side, and also up and down, as in the hiking trails on Mt. Washington.
Too bad the fog was over the mountaintop. However, the birds were there to eat out of their hands while walking in the misty bogs.

Their first evening was spent whale-watching off Campbell River; upon their return, they enjoyed the sockeye salmon dinner which my family and friends had picnicked on earlier.

I really enjoyed the time Thomas and Karin spent here, laughing all the time in our astonishment at the similarities in languages. Truly a delightful pair!
Sandra

Intrepid Gardener

Known by some as 'the Best Gardener in Campbell River', Marcy has been in charge of garden maintenance here at HBH for almost 25 years.

As that youngster, she came to work for Ann Haig-Brown when the then-current gardener was moving away.
Spending her first day with Ann, Marcy was a bit unnerved by the situation as Ann stood over her and watched. And watched. Marcy pulled a weed; Ann observed.

Apparently all went well.

Shortly after her start, Marcy brought up the subject of several plants which the previous gardener said, "...had to go." Ann's comments were thoughtful; she replied that she would like to see those particular plants stay because she truly liked them. Sounds like that's the moment when a friendship was clinched for sure, as Marcy pointed out to Ann, "It's your garden. You make the decisions, and I'll follow through for you, whatever you decide."
Or it could have been the time when Marcy pointed out a particular strategy for dead-heading roses, which Ann was pleasantly surprised to hear was her strategy as well!

Marcy showed up weekly, stepped into the kitchen where Ann was having breakfast and the conversation began with Marcy's questions of what to do that day.
"After about a year, Ann looked at me over her bowl of oatmeal and said, 'I think you should know by now what needs to be done!' So I guess any kind of apprenticeship was over - I was in."

This wonderful relationship continued for 5 years, with kindred spirits rooting deeply with the plants at Haig-Brown House. They spoke 'Trees' together and understood the reverence of ancient Druid mythology for Oak, Ash and Hawthorn and considered these to be sentient beings.

Before Ann's last trip to Vancouver, she left Marcy a note as usual, and just as usual, signed it, "Love Ann."
In reply Marcy placed a note for Ann (also signed with love) expecting her to read it upon her return.

Days later, Marcy did not know that Ann had returned and then been taken quickly to the Campbell River hospital, where she died the next day. As such, another note from Marcy, wondering where Ann was - once again signed with love.

Between them, the gardens were, are - and will be - a place of beauty, charm and delight. Marcy seems like a very precise old soul, who fanned the embers of friendship with her ancient chum and continues the work that together they loved.

Marcy's education is varied and diligent. She has a degree in horticulture, and dances ballet weekly; kickboxing is a weekly exercise (on top of all her gardening jobs in town); she keeps her own acreage of gardens with her husband and pets, selling much of the produce at a weekly market, and still she manages fantastic canoe trips into isolated rivers deep in the northern mountains for weeks at a time.

As a former student of Sybil Andrews (Campbell River's famous lino-block artist) Marcy was taught to 'see' when Sybil "...put me to work, diving into oil painting." She continues to work in lino- and wood-blocks and her award-winning art is superb in its minutiae detail.

With her positive outlook and sunny smile, I hope she finds the joy in her heart for gardening here for another 25 years.
Sandra

Tag, Bambi! You're It!

One of the funniest sights I have ever witnessed is the scene-straight-out-of-a-cartoon-movie; a game of tag by the twin fawns.

Many evenings, after 8:30, I catch a glimpse of something running on the grass, and it's normally the kidz in the middle of a game.

They look very much like puppies having fun, chasing each other then running away and back again.

They run around the yard in the old orchard, around the greenhouse and garden, and up the little hill to the maple, or into the brush alongside the river. They come together, little mouths hanging open and tongues showing, facing each other, catching a breath.

Then, one will leap straight up, kicking heels, pirouette mid-air, and hit the ground running once again.
Within seconds the other will give chase or run in the opposite direction, bounding to cross paths beyond the greenhouse and finally come to rest in the shade or alongside their Momma to catch their breath again.

Often at this point, one will try to nurse, which Momma won't allow. She'll sniff a rear-end or two, and inspect an ear or 3, then move onto a new branch to chew.

As she wanders across the property, I can just hear her words - "Come on, you two! Keep up with me, or that lady following us with her camera will have you for dinner! Let's go!"

At the same time, the kidz are listening to me talk loudly and inviting them to come closer.
Occasionally they take a couple more steps toward me, looking at me with head lowered and ears forward, wondering again whether I have another apple to entice them to pose. So far I've managed to get to about 12 feet before Momma says something, then the kidz start their game of tag once more.

I wish I could hear her. There's no sound from Momma, yet there's obviously some communication. She keeps a close eye on me, and I believe she started toward me a couple of times when I was getting too close to the kidz. I wouldn't want to entangle those sharp little hooves, nor a protective mother's wrath.

As they wander off to the next juicy plants in the shade I wave goodbye, and bid farewell; see you tomorrow evening. Take care crossing the road!

Sandra

Writing & Roddy

The writer in me has occasionally been coy, or shy, and at times adventurous & exuberant.
Other times the writer is lazy or incoherent - that's when I make 'it' separate, distancing 'it' from 'me'.
And it has also been spot on.

Today, inspiration was visual - a beautiful moment which Roddy actually created.
Stepping into the large room which looks into the glassed-in porch, I espied this lovely scene.

Upon the table which Rod built were the books he wrote, and, beyond them, was the space where he first wrote when he lived here. Inside that space is the grape vine which he and his wife planted, with sunlight shining through panes of glass, whose frames they painted and that they took care of to view the yard where their children played.

No doubt the sun still shines in about the same place, and the grape probably has a style not lost from its own youth. The styles of the books may differ slightly in jacket and font, but the titles remain the same, and I could almost smell that pipe...

Sandra

Lightening in My Eye

Hard to believe it was almost 2 weeks ago, since the thunderbolt is still etched in my optic nerve and that part of my brain which 'sees'...

12:30 A.M. Every single window in the house was open because of the heavy heat and humidity.

When I smelled the rain I awoke and started upstairs to close windows, tip-toeing so as not to awaken the overnighters in the "Guest Room". By the time I finished up there, I could hear them talking quietly and then their window closed.

After closing all of the windows downstairs, that distant rumble was easier to hear, and along came a flash. Then a huge roar of a thunderclap, immediate lightening, and the rain hit! It came down so hard and fast it sounded like hail.

I opened my curtains, crawled into bed and watched the window. The rain and thunder and lightening were right there, right over the river. The opportunity was presenting itself, so I got up, retrieved my camera from its case, and pressed the lens to the window with the shutter open for 4 seconds.

With each second the storm moved on and I managed to photograph only the blinded clouds, with just the trace of a bolt in the brightest image (lower left corner). There was one bolt of lightening which blinded me, a split second after my shutter closed, before I could press the button again. ah, the one that got away...

These photos are all from around 12:45 a.m. tho they're lit up like a dark and stormy day.
Sandra

GoFish

GoFishBC.com is the 'Freshwater Fisheries Society of BC' - a smart and efficient group out in the public, teaching folks the best ways to go fishin' in the 21st century.

The Haig-Brown Institute helped bring these guys to town to put on fishing classes for kids (who had to bring an adult along). Matt (pictured, left) and Mike (right) are enthusiastic and dedicated to showing the best ways for people to enjoy putting a line in a stream or pond, and they travel all over BC to do so.

Mike is the full timer, and Matt's the summer student - bit of a newbie though he's found the light at the end of the rod. Big smiles all 'round when speaking of the joys of fishing, and demonstrating that fun to the kids.

Good job, you guys! Looking forward to having you back at the house next time.
Sandra

Tied Green Tomatoes

Well, my blue (or yellow, or orange, or purple, or pink...) thumb is getting a tinge of green to it, as I learn something new each and every day in the garden as that intrepid gardener, Marcy, has shown me a trick - or 20!

One of the latest is how to keep your tomatoes up.
Yup; up.
I thought they needed a cage to 'lean' on and after that you just hoped they wouldn't flop too heavily onto the ground.

Apparently not.

If they're in a greenhouse with any type of rafter, you lynch them. Hang a very long length of string or twine evenly over the rafter, and use each end to gently wrap around the tomato stalk.
Easy peasy!
The stalk feels naturally sticky, like velvet is sticky, and the tomatoes are held up as they grow while the string is growth friendly.

Now it looks like we have "Tomato Puppet Theatre" about to open!
Sandra

Great Dad, Great Daughter

When I first saw my guests at the door, I did not realize they were a father / daughter pair. Adult, respectful, vital, healthy - I thought they were traveling friends. Fresh from a 5 - day kayaking trip to Desolation Sound, Ken and Leah stayed overnight then zoomed off to whale watching in Telegraph Cove (north of Campbell River about 3 hours drive) then returned for another evening. I'm glad they did; very pleasant company, and it's nice to hear of other parts of Canada - they live in Toronto.
Hope you had an uneventful flight home, you 2.
Sandra

Happy people...

The guests at the house lately are all smiles. I guess going to a wedding, or totally on vacation is good reason to smile...
Walter and Carla were in town for the lovely intimate wedding of their friend. They were all smiles, all the time, and especially thoughtful, as they made no noise at all when returning from the party, post-reception in the wee hours! I really enjoyed having them here.
Sandra

Royal Purple

More from the rosebed...

At the bottom end of the rosebed (closer to the river) are some of the most unusual poppies I've ever seen. These fringed purple Papaveraceae are tall, noble, and fleeting. Sounds enigmatic and quite apropos for this garden.

Here are photos from the same evening, with poppies at different stages.
Sandra

Old Lady 'Alchymists'

I am enchanted by most flowers but especially so by "Alchymist" in the rosebed.

As if crooking old fingers to indicate they have secrets to tell with raspy low voices, they draw me to them.

Approaching, I see the characters of old ladies within the cabbagey blossoms - gossiping heads bent together, crinkling their mouldy eyes at me. Others are isolated, in high colour and gaping.

Peering into these faces, I find the softest wrinkles in skin tones of pink and peach and tan, and not at all frightening.
Instead, the 'crone' myth lives here - not only are they old, they are wise.

Gently fostering tender new buds, teaching and imparting wisdom to them, the crones know to do so expeditiously; they will soon wilt, then dry, then fall back to earth. Ashes to ashes and all that.

At first the tender new buds are lovely and naive and unaware of the precious lode of lore within them.

They blossom and open wide and, unbelievably, become even more beautiful in their maturity. Perhaps that's when they know... instinctually sensing to divulge to their new buds before the inevitable.

Obviously for me, this parallels the female human condition.
It also brings me to a poem - a favourite of mine by, of all people, Tennessee Williams from his play, "Night of the Iguana".
Thank you for indulging me.
Sandra




"How calmly does the orange branch
Observe the sky begin to blanch
Without a cry, with a prayer
With no betrayal of despair.

Sometime while night obscures the tree
The zenith of its life will be gone - past forever
And from thence, a second history will commence.

A chronicle no longer gold
A bargaining with mist and mould
And finally the broken stem
The plummeting to earth and then
An intercourse not well-designed
For beings of a golden kind
Whose native green must arch above
The earth's obscene, corrupting love.

And still the ripe fruit and the branch
Observe the sky begin to blanch
Without a cry, without a prayer
With no betrayal of despair.

Oh, courage, could you not as well
Select a second place to dwell?
Not only in that golden tree
But in the frightened heart of me?"