Ghosts of the Past

Curving, coloured glass bottles in a window

Glass Dancers

In the ghost town of Ocean Falls, local legend “Nearly Normal” Norman Brown has spent years sifting through the ruins, gathering an eclectic record of everyday life from the decades before the pulp mill and the BC government pulled the plug on the town’s existence. His museum, lovingly assembled and maintained above the old shipyard, is a monument to the thousands of people who once lived there. If you’re ever in Ocean Falls, be sure to track down Norman (that will be easy) and ask him to show you the museum.

Among the myriad objects in the collection, I found these lovely glass bottles, standing on a windowsill. They seemed to move to a rhythm that time has not erased.

View more photos and another post about Norman’s wonderful museum

 

If You Wait Long Enough

Clematis flower

Years ago I planted a clematis in what turned out to be the wrong spot. It has struggled, never seeming to become anything more than a tiny, frail stem barely emerging from the thick tangle of lady’s mantle, buttercup and other weeds that have inevitably thrived around it.

By last spring I had pretty much given up on it. But when we returned home this year after being away for most of the summer, we found a single, large flower – its first ever, and one of the loveliest clematis blooms I have ever seen.

Flight of Fancy

Floating feather with raindrop on it

Flight of Fancy

 

I was fortunate to have a chance encounter with this feather when I was rowing our dinghy off Newcastle Island, near Nanaimo.

Feathers are complicated structures, providing birds with many functions including warmth and insulation and control over their flight. But I like to imagine this feather, with its single water droplet, as a simple boat carrying a solo passenger, just like my dinghy was that morning.

Amphibian Encounters #1

Pacific Tree Frog on a White Wall

Caught in the Act

Pacific tree frogs are frequent visitors to our yard, and it’s apt that they’re also known as “Pacific Chorus frogs”. For about six weeks each year, beginning in early spring, a veritable wall of loud and jubilant frog song arises from our ponds. I love that sound. And considering the fragile state of frogs and other amphibians globally, as their wetland habitats disappear beneath bulldozers, concrete and other human “progress”, I feel tremendously reassured each spring when our night time chorus starts up.

Later, over the summer, the frogs are mostly quiet – their courtship rituals over for another year – but happily, we find the little guys and their progeny all over our garden and yard, on trees and leaves and anywhere a bit of shade can be found. They’re lovely to have around and I hope that the little piece of habitat that we provide will help sustain their population here where we live long into the future.

A related post: the Red-legged frog