I can hardly wait to see this movie. It’s made by the people who made Coraline, another animated film that I loved (even though animation is not a passion of mine). I’m chuffed that I learned how to get this vide onto my post. I’ve not been able to do this for a long time.
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First thing yesterday morning, I had a spa. I got out just before a pathetic rain shower began. I came in, did a laundry and I contacted Gabriola Disposal to come and take all the stuff I’ve amassed in the studio to the landfill. When I take all the garden furniture out and put it into the yard, the studio will be largely empty and very clean and tidy.
I feel bad about the two sofas and all the crap going to landfill, but I do not want to be like the previous owner who lived here and left me with mountains of crap to remove from the property. When it comes time to sell, I want the yard and the house to be in order.
Our morning walk yesterday was under cloudy sky and in cool air (12°). Still, it wasn’t raining and it was lovely to be outside. When we were done, we went into the village to pick up a prescription (that wasn’t ready), and then we came home. I had chores to do, including vacuuming hundreds Fir caps from inside the house. They are everywhere. Sheba brings them in every time she goes outdoors. You should see my bed cover!
I had to bake something to take to a tea our dog walking group is having this afternoon, so I baked a baclava tart. It’s quick and easy to make, and people love it, but all baking fills me with tension. I worry it will not look good and/or that something will go wrong. And it did. The syrup boiled over and it burnt on the burner, and a dreadful/delicious smell filled the house. However, the tart looks fine and there was enough syrup left to do the job.
Once it was baked, Sheba and I went for our second walk while the tart cooled. The sky had brightened considerably, and it had warmed up (16°). It was lovely to walk leisurely through the 707 Park, and when we arrived back at the car, my phone rang and it was Bob Rooks telling me that my wood arrives today. Yay! I have the tea party to go to, so I won’t start stacking until tomorrow, and I’ll be keeping at it through the weekend. I have three cords to stack.
Once off the phone, we went back to the pharmacy to get the prescription I needed, and I stopped at Colleen’s to fetch a plate onto which I will put the tart. I love these baclava tarts, and now I have a perfect pan in which to serve them. They are drenched in syrup, so I need a pan with a raised edge. When we got home, I put the tart into the new dish, and it fit perfectly! I poured the syrup over it and overnight almost all of it was absorbed into the filo dough with which it is made. I think it will be a big hit at the tea this afternoon.
Pete came by. He betrayed an interest in moving again. I shall be truly sorry if he and Ali move to another home on the island. I feel deeply for Pete. He looks after me. He’s already offered to help me stack wood when he gets back from his birthday trip. He is so kind and warm, and he’s been so incredibly generous, I couldn’t help myself. I love him.
There are six of them, people whom I love on Gabriola. Eoin and François, Kris and Steve, Pete (I don’t know Ali, his wife, as well) and Nancy. And Kris’s sister, Stacy, is another person whom I deeply love. She is a treasure. She has a place here, but she lives in Vancouver. I see her whenever she is on the island. I also adore my dog-walking friends, but I’m not as close to them because we trail walk together. We walk in a long line and having meaningful conversations is impossible. Only on some trails can we walk side by side.
I don’t see any of these wonderful people often, except for my fellow dog walkers and Pete. Pete drops by all the time, and love seeing him because I feel liked. I can feel it when I am with him, and he says such nice things to me. It’s always casual when we’re together, and we laugh a lot. Early last evening he dropped by and he does what he always does, he cruises through all the garden beds. He notices everything, and he likes what I’ve done with the yard. We are brother gardeners.
All my strawberries are doing well. It helped, I reckon, that we had showers and clouds while they settled into their new home. I think I’m going to make another gutter garden and fill it with wild Strawberries; part of my yard is full of them. I love the small, but delicious berries they yield. They grow wild all over the island, but I’ve never seen their berries for sale anywhere, even at farmers’ markets. I’d love to put them in a salad.
I’m so on top of things that the hummingbird feeder and two seed feeding stations are all operational. It’s the fountain, however, during this drought, that is the big draw. Putting in the fountain was the smartest landscaping decision I made. I got it for the sound it makes, but I love that it’s a bird magnet. You can’t see most of it. Just the top pool and the spout at the top are visible. The rest is covered with Ivy. I need to prune it.
Right beside the fountain is my trellis where it doesn’t get much direct sunlight. I planted a Climbing Rose and a Climbing Hydrangea. I’m certain I asked someone knowledgeable what I should plant to grow on it, because all the plants have thrived. There are two Climbing Hydrangeas, and a shrub I can’t identify that grows well, but it’s had only one blossom in each of the past two years, and that’s sad because they smell like Jasmine (and isn’t Daphne).
I look around me. The log home, three beds, two baths, and the grand room that is living space, a generous dining space and the kitchen, and the landscaping, including a generous number of plantings of things to eat. It’s heaven. I absolutely love it and I’m proud of what I’ve done.
But none of this was foreseen. It was not my plan to live here. I didn’t really have a plan. Ten years ago, I was doing then what I’m doing now: living my life as best I could. The sudden and violent onset of symptoms of my neurological disorder threw that life into chaos. Struggling to tolerate anything and everything in hardcore downtown Vancouver was overwhelming me.
Then I saw the ad for this house online. I wasn’t looking to move, but when I saw the ad, I jumped. And then, without thinking and without a plan, I built a fence and started landscaping a yard full of garbage, nothing but a sheet of sandstone in one place, and years of neglect.
Landscaping was something to do. I have a half-acre lot, I’ve always loved gardens, so why not. I didn’t think about annual rainfall or watering responsibilities when I started making bed after bed of garden and planting trees and shrubs around the yard. I needed to keep busy. It was therapy.
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Next on my plate, after weeks of gardening, comes stacking, toting and splitting wood. It’s a huge, huge job, all very physical labour. Splitting is last, and I’m going to ask Pete to help me with that. It hurts my back. With Pete, we might build a ramp and platform that will raise the splitter making it much, much easier to use. It cost $1,260 for three cords and taxes, and it’s worth every penny. I have a lot of wood already, and in the Fall, I’m having a tree taken down and that will yield a lot more wood.
I like being warm, and I’m home all the time, so I need a lot of wood. Having the fire not only heats the place, it’s also the soul of the living room. Everybody loves to sit round it during the cold months. My log walls and the fire make my place quintessentially cozy. And I have HBC blankets!
Starting tomorrow: loading, toting and stacking.
