The Best of Times, The Worst of Times

 

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

This quote from Dickens kept popping into my mind this past week - every phrase so perfect for a description of our world in 2020.  As we once again came to the end of one year and the beginning of another, there were likely many who say 'good riddance' to 2020, who think of it as the worst year of their lives.  And for some, perhaps it was - those who lost loved ones, those who suffered unbearable economic hardship, those who are exhausted from caring for others in hospitals and homes.  

But before we frame 2020 as a year of strife - political strife, racial strife, pandemic strife, personal strife - let's not lose sight of the good that it brought.   Household members spent more time together, parents played with and taught their children, kids spent more time with siblings, neighbours helped neighbours. Employers found ways to accommodate customers and employees, while keeping them safe; and communities showed appreciation for essential workers in health care and trucking and essential retail services.  Beyond Covid, we saw increased awareness of and activism around racism, and consciousness-raising on the fragility of democracy as our southern neighbours faced one of the toughest political fights in history. 

Let us not lose sight of  ways in which we have grown as individuals - reading more, learning new online skills, thinking outside the box in order to celebrate virtually with others, being able to give and to receive with graciousness and understanding, doing things we may not like (like cancelling travel plans or wearing masks) for the greater good of the community.  

On a personal level, I had to cancel a long-overdue trip to the States to visit my daughter. It was scheduled for just days after the March 2020 border lockdown.  But the rest of March, and the rest of spring and summer, afforded me some amazing hiking adventures on our relatively covid-free (at that time) island.  Looking through my photos, I see I hiked at least thirty different trails and parks that spring and summer, several of them new to me and more challenging than I had done for some years. 

And, perhaps because of cleaner air due to less traffic, or perhaps because being in nature is such a wonderful antidote to Covid restrictions, I saw dozens of plants and birds that I hadn't seen before or had seen only rarely and spotted wee familiar creatures too.

It seemed like we saw barred owls almost every hike this spring and summer! 

A cute little mouse nibbles at some seeds

We saw lots more red-breasted sapsuckers this year too.

This was a first for me - Gnome Plant!

Turkey Tail fungi

My favourite and rarest sighting was a wee little Northern pygmy owl - no more than 6 or 7 inches tall - perched in a tree on the top of Little Mountain, near home.  They are one of the most elusive birds on the island, and 'blue listed'  (meaning of special concern).  

The tiny Northern Pygmy Owl.
What you see on the branch beside him is an "owl pellet" - regurgitated dinner.

And while I was photographing him, I heard the beautiful strains of violin music drifting through the trees, acoustics enhanced by the steep cliffs framing the valley below and the hills that rose on the other side.  I followed the sound, and to my surprise there was a young man taking violin lessons on the top of a cliff.  I couldn't resist sneaking a couple of shots as I listened to the amazing sound:

With Eldercollege and Art Classes cancelled  (online courses hold no appeal to me), I had more 'downtime' - to bake, to read, to walk, to wander the beach, to sort and tidy, to reflect.  Despite the fact that most of my pre-covid obligations were self-imposed (like classes or organizations which I chose to join), it was a relief to be free of such obligations, to have fewer decisions to make, and thus to enjoy - for a while - a smaller world. 

And that smaller world came with many  more surprises.  As I wandered my city, using both familiar routes and discovering new ones,  I learned so much that I didn't know about my own neighbourhood - oases of beauty, snippets of history. I found a 'rain garden' next to the firehall, complete with signage explaining its significance.  I saw a flourishing community garden beside a walkway I'd never explored.  I read about the history of our Arts Centre and the origins of the huge trees along Memorial Avenue.  I spent time in the Arboretum, learning about the many varieties of trees planted there.  I explored back lanes, dead end streets, and walkways that provided glimpses in interesting back yards. 

I saw baby quail race after their mother along a walkway that I hadn't known existed.  I watched spring burst forth, fearing nothing, sending flora and fauna out in the neighbourhoods, the yards, the lanes, the forests.  I saw doe and twin fawns check out the front porch of a house down the road, and baby bunnies nibble greens along the pathways.  I heard the call of the eagles that nest near a ravine alongside some little-used steps off a rocky section of beach, heard Northern flickers pound their mating call on the metal electrical box near our complex, watched murmurations of sandpipers flash their white bellies as they moved from tidal pool to tidal pool on the beach. 

Mama quail keeping an eye on me
after shepherding her babies into the brush.

Maggie benefitted from our city, beach, and park walks too - not just physically, but mentally as she increased her repertoire of parkour skills, jumping higher than I would believe possible, learning to weave around empty parking lot posts or hop from stump to stump and log to log in a local park.  She strengthened her back legs while challenging her brain and conquering some of her anxieties. 

There's lots for dogs to do on a city walk besides peeing and sniffing!

Hey, look at me Mama! 

Pffft 
It must have been 'Tongue Out Tuesday'

On our walks I saw and heard evidence of  a caring community - a table in front of a house offering free food for those in need, a tub of apples at the end of a driveway,  tributes to our essential workers through hearts in windows and  noise making at 7 PM and signs at intersections reading "We see you, we thank you, we appreciate you!" 

As our world grew smaller, neighbours in my 22-unit complex became closer.  We helped each other with errands to reduce exposure to strangers in stores, we started a monthly newsletter (to which I am a contributor - back to the world of writing!), we had physically-spaced garden parties (when that was permitted) and celebrated each person's birthdays.  Our oldest resident, who turned 90, received a visit from the firefighters - their gift to the city was to drive by with siren and lights for children's and senior's birthdays.

More downtime meant more time for following the news and reading background material to better understand racism, to critically analyze political issues, to reflect on the trajectory our world seemed to be taking - both positive and negative. And it meant learning to recognize when I felt stressed from information-overload, when it was time to shut down the computer, to turn off the TV or radio.  I spent a lot less time online this year than any previous year since the advent of the web.  And I'm thankful for that.  It made for more beach time, more forest time, more new authors to discover, more recipes to try, more sunsets and sunrises.

I love watching the eagles walk - 
they stomp around like "someone's gonna be in trouble"

Watching the birds feeding at low tide is always fascinating.  
This gull is eating a small crab.

Another first for me - an egg yolk jelly! 

And yet another first - squid eggs!

Sunset from my front door

In the fall and on into this winter, some of my outdoor pleasures came to a grinding halt.  An accident while camping ended the fall hiking for my hiking/camping buddy. Then  spiraling covid cases brought in new restrictions to movement outside our communities and reduced the size of our social 'bubble'  from six to just one or two people for those of us who live alone (and no visitors for two or more person households).  Further restrictions on outdoor gatherings put an end to our garden parties.  

But the community still finds ways to connect, to help, to cheer, to appreciate, and Maggie and I are still able to walk around town and on the beach, to visit with one neighbour on either side, to talk to family and friends via phone and internet.  And, yes, I even attempted to 'zoom' with my family on Christmas day - I was able to see and hear them, but they could not see me as my computer apparently doesn't have the right video program. Blech - I still hate technology. But I tried.  I miss my friends and family, and Maggie does too.

No more walks with Pat and the Poms for the moment -
they live in a different community from Maggie and me.

And so we move into a new year, still restricted by covid, still concerned about global political struggles,  still aware of the ever-present social inequalities in our world, still missing friends and family and hikes beyond my community.  But spring is but a few weeks away.  Spring, who cannot be contained or quarantined.  Spring, who will provide an everchanging kaleidoscope of colour, making each walk an adventure.  Spring - a promise of the future, like a phoenix rising from the ashes of winter. 

These are from last spring's walks.....but it won't be long before we see them again.

 And with hard work and cooperation and wise leadership, our world will emerge from covid restrictions and covid deaths, from political mayhem and violence and fear, and keep the best of what they've learned and experienced,  while leaving behind the worst of it.  We shall enter this new year eager for new opportunities, new possibilities, filled with new hope for the future.

Let's go with that.  Hope. Possibilities.   New Beginnings. We can make the Best of times out of these Worst of times.  We can do it. 

Chalk drawing in a local parking lot when the first wave of covid hit the island.

Stay safe, my friends, and stay positive.  Happy New Year. 

Merry Christmas!

 May this Christmas find you safe and healthy, connecting with friends and family via phone and computer, and looking forward to squashing this pandemic so we can get together once again.  May you share love, peace, and the Christmas Spirit this day. 

Well, I'm glad that's over, By Maggie

 Hi Everybody, it's me, Maggie.  Mah Mama says I should let you know I is doin' fine.  If you saw the postscript on her last blog post, you'll know I haz had some medical problems. A couple of months ago, Mama noticed a lump under my nipple.  It didn't bother me none, but Mama said we had to get the dog doctor to check it out. 

I dunno what's worse - having to put on these silly outfits
 every year or going to visit the dog doctor!

I had to go in All By Myself!  Because of something called covid, the dog doctor only lets dogs (okay, and cats and other critters) into the building.  The humans, except the ones that work there, hafta stay out.  Not Fair. 

Anyways, they stuck needles in me and sent me home.  Then a couple of weeks later, Mama found out the lump was cancer.  Something called Mast Cell.  So then she told me I hadta go back to the dog doctor for Surgery.  Again, I had to go in All By Myself!  And before we went, Mama wasn't allowed to give me Any Breakfast!!!!!  I was Very Upset.

The dog doctor stuck me with needles again and I fell asleep or something, because when I woked up, someone had dressed me in this thing called a onesie, and I had a big incision and a bunch of stitches under it.  Stitches! What did they think I was, some kinda stuffed teddy bear who was comin' apart at the seams? Mama said I looked like a stuffed sausage in my onesie, but with fluff comin' out both ends. And that I couldn't go to the beach fer awhile because I couldn't get it all wet an' sandy. 

Me in mah onesie

Mah bum in the onesie - it snaps up around mah tail!

They did give me a bootiful hand-drawn paper bag wiv my medications in it - it even haz my name on it! I think I might use it as a Christmas stocking this year.  As long as Santa doesn't leave more pills instead of treats!  

Do ya like the bag they gave me?

Then we had to wait fer some more reports to find out how bad the cancer is.  Good News!  The dog doctor phoned a few days ago to say it was a Low Grade!  (Later, my mama got a copy of the actual report, and it says something a bit different:  On the three point scale, it is a 2 [Intermediate], and on the two point scale it is a Low Grade. But still, that's good news). Best of all, there were clean margins, whatever that means.  Mama sez it means it hasn't spread to my limp nodes, whatever they are, and so I has an Excellent Prognosis. Dogs with mast cell do sometimes get more mast cells, unrelated to the first, in other areas so Mama has to watch carefully for them. But she watches fer lumps on me anyway. 

Yesterday I went back to the dog doctor AGAIN, and this time they took out my stitches and said I don't hasta wear the onesie any more.  

Wanna see my scar? It starts from just under my right front leg, and goes down to my belly.  See?  Don't mind the dirty belly - I is not allowed to go to the groomer fer a bit so No Baths Fer Me (hee hee hee hee)!

See mah scar?

Soon I will be able to go back to the beach and run on the sand and paddle in the water again!  Dat's the best Christmas Present Ever - no more cancer, and BEACHTIME!

Ah can't wait to go back to mah beach again!  
This waz taken before mah surgery. 

Love, Maggie. 

Dancing with the dolphins and other marine adventures

Picture this:  It is late September. After five days of nonstop rain, several campervan problems, potholed logging roads,  and itinerary changes, the day finally dawns to the promise of mixed sun, cloud, light wind, light showers.  

And so....off we go, to catch a ride on one of the last whale tours of the season offered by a reputable company operating  for the summer out of Telegraph Cove.  Covid precautions are strict - a limited number of passengers, all wearing masks all the time (even on deck), multiple hand sanitation stations on the small boat and instructions to use them every 30 minutes. 

After on-ground instruction, the small group of us board the boat, and we cast off, one of the local dogs peering over the rail to bid us farewell. We're on an adventure - and what an adventure it was!

We hadn't gone far before we saw the first sighting - the blow from a whale, as the large grey humpback emerged from the water.  

The captain immediately slowed the boat and turned off the engine while we were still a long distance away - almost too far for my 30x zoom to reach. 

[As an aside: I had been hesitant to do the tour as I had witnessed first hand how disrespectful and disruptive some whale tours are.  In a hike this spring further down island  Sally and I had been having lunch on the bank of  Dodds Narrows when we spied a pod of about 6 whales just about to head into the narrows, where they would pass right by us.  Before I could even get the camera out, numerous whale boats appeared from both directions, racing against the flow of water directly toward the whales, ignoring all regulations regarding distancing, and corralling them for the sake of giving their customers a closer look.  The whales turned tail and swam quickly back in the direction they had come.  I was disgusted by the various tours' actions. 

Such was not the case on this tour.  All afternoon, at any sighting of wildlife, the engine was shut right off and we just drifted on the water, enjoying the peace, the views, and the marine mammals and birds.   And the same was true of other boaters in the area - we only saw two other boats,  and both shut off their engines and kept a respectful distance from all wildlife.] 

Often the whales, sea lions and dolphins swam right up to our drifting boat, checking us out as they dove under and over each other.  After they had moved on, the captain restarted the engine and we slowly sailed along until, in the distance, we saw more marine life and stopped once again. 

The most gob-smacking, awe-inspiring, breathtaking, mesmerizing, heart-stopping experience had to be the dancing dolphins.  There were at least a hundred of them - white-sided dolphins flying through the air, leaping over and under each other , like a beautifully choreographed dolphin version of Swan Lake. Never in my life have I seen anything so incredible. It was hard to capture good photos -  I was so  completely entranced with them that at times I could do nothing but watch, camera forgotten in my hand. 

Some came close to the boat, bursting out of the water with such speed that I missed the shot, and at other times circling around like sharks in the movies.

And then there were the whales - we saw at least a dozen, all humpbacks.  The marine biologists on board were able to identify some by name, from their tail markings in particular.  This one was named Argonaut:

If you google his name and "humpback" you will find several links with information about him - he has been a regular around the island for several years.  In fact, you can even sponsor him  through the Marine Education and Research Society , and there are even a couple of fictionalized books about him and his family - the first of two (so far - it looks to become a series) can be found here.

The whales, like the dolphins, were fascinating to watch - they would rise like a great grey submarine, float along for awhile, then the body would hump, twist, and dive, often scattering any fish, dolphins, birds, or other marine life in its way.  Humpbacks have baleen plates rather than teeth - around four hundred thin plates that hang down from the upper jaw and filter incoming water (which is then expelled through the blowhole) leaving the krill and small fish behind to continue the journey through the digestive system. They do not eat seals or dolphins like some whales do, just teeny little seafood hors d'oeuvres!  In this series of shots I took, you can see the whale preparing to dive and then displacing other sea life:

Preparing to dive

Here's a larger one of that displacement:

We didn't just see whales and dolphins, but drifted around among a diversity of  birds and waterfowl, beautiful scenery, some porpoises, seals, and even a sea otter.  I wasn't able to get a good shot of the sea otter or porpoises or even the birds, but at least the scenery stayed in one place while I focused the lens! 

Towards the end of the afternoon, as we headed back to Telegraph Cove, we stopped to watch a colony of sea lions.  They were all ages and sizes - from the very young to the huge male adults.  They were also tons of fun to photograph as they constantly popped up from rocks, made funny faces, and expressed themselves vocally as well.  And it was also hard to get a photo of any one or two sea lions without being photobombed by another!

See the photobomber?

Here I was trying to capture the 'family' - baby and two adults who I thought might be its parents, when who popped up from the rocks but Uncle Fester! 

The kiddie pool - lots of little ones having a swim!

♪ ♪ Oh Sole Mio ♪♪

With the camera on continuous shoot, I was able to capture a few things that I'd missed with the human eye.  My favourite was this little interaction between a young sea lion and a much bigger adult - the dad perhaps? (My camera shoots 10 frames per second on continuous shoot, so these shots are just a fraction of a second apart)

Do you see what happened here?  The big guy gave the little one a kiss! And in the third frame, there's
a hilarious photobomber just above the little one's head. 

We bid the sea lions goodbye, but nobody waved back.  

There was one other mesmerizing and awe-inspiring event that afternoon.  It was one of those days where the lighting constantly changed - stormy clouds, blue sky, cotton clouds, grey sky....and sudden showers during sunbursts led to continual rainbows that followed us the whole afternoon, rainbows peeking out behind picturesque islands, rainbows arching from island to island, broad shafts of rainbow plummeting into the sea, rainbow-encrusted clouds hovering just above the ocean.  

The rainbows held special meaning to me that day.  My dear friends Del and Mark had just four days earlier laid to rest their beautiful Molly-Dawg, aka Princess Molly, who never failed to make me smile when we had the opportunity to visit. 

While I am not generally given to flights of fancy, I felt Molly's spirit telling me she had reached the Rainbow Bridge, to please let her mom and dad let her know she was well, she was free, she could run like a pup, and her old pals , including King,  were there running with her. She said it was everything that her mom promised her it would be.  I was profoundly moved and as soon as I was able upon return to camp, I messaged Del to let her know.  The constant rainbows, the symbolism, the sense of peace as I thought of Molly and King and of my own dogs who had passed, moved me just as the sight of the dolphins dancing had thrilled me.  Such strong emotions, such spiritual experience. 

It was truly a day to remember, a day full of unique experiences, a day desperately needed after five days of rain and vehicle woes, a day on which one is grateful to be alive, to be so immersed in nature, to live in such an amazing part of the world. 

And it was on that note that our camping trip came to an abrupt end, for the very next day my camping and hiking buddy, Sally, tripped over a log in camp and received a severely broken ankle - one which required surgery with pins and plates and which will keep her off the hiking trails for many months.  In fact it is only this week, almost three months after our day on the waters, that she will be allowed to fully weight bear.  She ended up in hospital, I drove the campervan back home.  The rest of our north island tour will have to wait for another time. But the day dancing with the dolphins and watching the whales, all in a sky full of rainbows, will never be forgotten.

                                                               ---------

[Post script: Once again, I must apologize to followers who are not on facebook and may have missed my photos and stories this past while.  The last three months have been...challenging...for a number of  personal reasons, not the least of which is that  my Maggie was diagnosed with cancer.  Mags underwent surgery to remove a mast cell mammary tumour last week.  I am still awaiting the results of the pathology to find out what stage it was at and whether they got clean edges.  Mast cell is fairly common (as are mammary tumors, though usually in unspayed dogs).  If it is stage 1 or 2, the prognosis can be excellent.  If stage 3, then life expectancy is generally a few short months.  I should have that information some time this week.  Meanwhile, Mags is recovering well, wearing a cute little onesie which is used in place of chest dressings and to prevent any chewing or scratching of her 4" incision. I will keep you posted.  J. ]