Exterior Decorating

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Slowly, I have been collecting pieces of slate. With a promising start to the week, I decided I would tackle covering the ugly brick at the base of the greenhouse, ignoring the dread in the pit of my stomach. Starting a job one isn't certain of is always hardest. Once one gets going, I've discovered, it usually works out. 

Reading the directions to the mortar mix, I stirred. Oh, no. Wayyyy too much water. Half the bag went in to thicken the gray soup. Working quickly before it hardened, the problem became the slate not adhering. Heavier pieces on top caused the lower section to collapse. With a sense of urgency, I bent myself into Houdini positions, reworking the stone puzzle. Almost there. With no time to stop for lunch, my new arrangements refused to cooperate. A sharp pain was a warning. Almost finished - just a little more mortar. By midafternoon, standing upright was a shock. The stone work held and, gosh, it looked beautiful. I crawled into the house. Had the pain been worth it?

A trip to town was in order.

"Do you think you could take it easy for a bit?" My chiropractor was attempting reason. Diplomacy with her clients is her strong point.

I love this woman. I swear, without her, I would be dead. My reply was a muffled, "Might try the next wall a year from now." She adjusted the offending vertebrae.

"Good. And use ice."

On the happier side, the rockery has held. It looks like it has always been there. 

oh beauteous wall...

Thoughts On A Chai Day

By Maryanna Gabriel

It is a day for making Chai. Some days are. Stormy and blustery yet surrounded by the promise of spring. A closer inspection of my garden patch revealed the onion sets had vanished. I looked more closely. So had the peas for that matter. Dang. What critter would do that?

A movie had caught my eye and a trip to town was in order. The Way, My Way was made by Australian, Bill Bennett, about the Camino. It received good reviews. I bought my ticket and plunked down and as I watched, proceeded to bawl my eyes out. The plot was not complicated -  a curmudgeon who does the Camino Frances finishes a better man. Why did I cry? The fact I had done it? How much it reforges one? My book? All of this, I suppose. And an indescribable something more. The mystery perhaps of how miracles and synchronicities work. 

No one has approached me about making a movie. Yet. How did Bennett do it? After his journey, he wrote the script himself. Hmmm, she thought as she  bent to replant her peas, this time under a protective cover. 

A Welcome Slow Walk

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"Watch now how I start the day in happiness..."

Mary Oliver 

Spring in all her glory... there is hope. 

The world falls away when I am in a garden. It may not seem I am resting as I plant, but the hours pass unnoticed. Then I wonder why my back hurts at the end of the day!

With a break in some cranky spring weather, I visited the nearby Japanese Gardens for inspiration. It was built by volunteers to commemorate the peoples that contributed so much. A sign says the zig-zag bridge was a means to prevent evil spirits from entering but it also slows down the viewer.

 It worked. My walk was slow. And most welcome.

Konnichiwa. 

Shielding Oneself With Hygge

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"...if I have faith that can move mountains,
but have not love, I am nothing."
1 Corinthians 13:1

"A Room of One's Own"

It has been an intense week for many with the full moon, the eclipse, political upheavals, tornadoes, and transitions implying goodness knows what.

I have been shielding myself. 

My loving friend died this week with her dignity intact through MAID. She had Parkinson's and was in a care facility and knew it was her time. At the very last, friends gathered around her to recount stories and honour her gifts to us. Her choice is one I respect, but still it has been hard. 

For the living, we go on, such as it is, in these strange times. For me, the best way to counter death is through connecting with the beauty of life through the Danish concept of hygge. Hygge is about embracing coziness with a studied tour de force. This meant having a wood fire, lighting candles, playing inspirational music, and taking extra care with special dinners, a call to a dear friend. It meant hot baths and snuggling with the cosiest of blankets and giving myself permission to go slow and just be. It also meant getting outside and embracing the emerging seedlings and budding trees whilst envisioning serene summer spaces.

One has to make each day count after all. 

What A Way To Go

By Maryanna Gabriel 


Yesterday there was a power failure and I wondered why. A friend had a story around it. One island over lost their power and often when they do, we lose ours, and it was thought this was due to an accident. A car had driven over the cliff at the ferry terminal.

Imagine waking up, having a coffee, rushing to catch the ferry, because nobody catches ferries in a leisurely fashion, presumably having a heart attack, driving through cement pilons, then soaring over a cliff up into the air and landing in the ocean. My goodness. What a way to go. Not quite what one expects when one gets out of bed in the morning. 

They pulled the car out the next day. 

One never knows what is coming next. 

In contemplation of this strange story, I enclose some inspiration for these our precious days. 

Be Kind To Yourself

By Sophie Diener

I hope today you remember that the sky is not humiliated by its vastness

And the mountains remain 

unashamed of their height.

Mother earth and her oceans are not afraid of their size,

And the sun is not concerned if someone has to squint their eyes.

It will shine.

And it will not apologize for its light.

And like the trees that teach us -
it's okay to lose our leaves as the seasons change,

 and then come back to life.

I hope that nature teaches us to look at ourselves and be kind

I hope that we don't dim, or shrink, or fold into spaces far too tight

Yes, today, I hope when look at yourself that you are kind.

- with thanks to Stage Door Johnny

Update: It turns out the fellow was young, not old, was not at a ferry terminal but rather a dock and it was not one island over. That is the grape vine for you. A recent news item stated that the RCMP thought "speed was a factor". 

Given The Uncertainty

 By Maryanna Gabriel



This morning had me scrambling for my insurance documents. The corner of the house rattled. Again. It was a 4.5. This time it was very close. If one was trying to ignore the ominous feeling in one's pit with world news, the geology around here would say otherwise. 

Yesterday, I planted. With the sunshine, it felt like June. I love the timeless feeling as I work. The world falls away while I poke through my seed packages. For the first time in my life, I have graduated from direct planting under remay enshrouded rows to an actual greenhouse so in wonderment, I place the

Putting one's best green thumb forward. 

seeds.

There are two new patches of dirt I am also cultivating and how to arrange it is very much on my mind. Given the uncertainty in the air, it seems prudent to put one's best green thumb forward. Imagine my delight as I stumbled across a patch of pink protruding buds of rhubarb down in the lower forty. 

I also bought an electric composter. It seemed extravagant, but no, it is actually prudent and in the end will save me money. I spend so much on soil, and so much energy trying to understand how to deal with compost and the rules of garbage on a gulf island, without enciting a riot from the raccoons, to say nothing of the mice and rats that it is giving me a complete thrill. 

Jasper, the cat's tail is much better. And so it goes. 

5.2

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

    Yesterday, it started as a rumble from afar that approached at lightening speed. 
        "Is that an earthquake?" I asked myself. 

QuakeWatch: two quakes off the coast of western Canada. 

    The windows began to rattle and the corner of the house where I was standing began to shake. Yup. Then the pause as I waited. Is that all there is?
    For now, it was.
    I was in denial of course. I thought maybe a 4. Then I looked at QuakeWatch. Technically, this was the strongest quake I have experienced. However, a lesser quake in Christchurch, New Zealand, in 2012 scared me half to death when the floor I was sitting on rolled like waves of wobbling jello. 
    That sensory challenge was too much and I got on a bus, and left town as soon as I could with a huge sense of relief. 
    All is quiet again. Love coastal living. 

Love Bug on the Day Of Love

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

Jasper on the furniture. 

Having moved to the country, I often get asked if I am getting a dog. Truthfully, I have been considering it. One day, a furry friend showed up acting like he owned the place. Jasper is a true love bug, and has entered my life without a second thought. He winds himself around my legs with huge purrs and is forever jumping on the furniture. 

Shortly after I moved in, there was a knock on the door. It was Jasper's mother. 

"I was going to try to find you," I said. "Do you mind that he comes?" 

She was quick to reply that it was fine. She gave instruction on how to dispense treats and we are all right as rain. The dog question went on the back burner. In a way, he was like one. 

Late one night, I heard the most terrific cat fight. Gosh, I hope it isn't Jasper. For several days - no Jasper. I worried. Eventually he sidled up with a horrific gash in 

A sore tail. 

his tail. Oh Jasper. Did you get into a fight with a raccoon? He got double treats that day and lately is looking better.

Last night, I wondered where he was and called his name. Looking way up, I found him lying calm as you please, five feet in the air. He was on top of the hutch with his sore tail tucked tidily beneath and looking like he was posing for a photo shoot. Glad I had no Waterford Chrystal. This love bug keeps me on my toes. 

 

Posing for his photo shoot. 

A Day of Breakfasts

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

It has been a day of breakfasts. I looked out the window, and the ground was green. My weather report. No worries, I was headed off the island and into town for some much needed items and a precious back treatment. Besides, I had snows. By 10:00 am I was in a white-out surrounded by cars pulled over with lights flashing. The trouble with the west coast is the slick-wet under the snow.

Will confess. I prayed.

Got great service everywhere I went because... nobody was as idiotic as I was. Made it to a friend, daffodils in hand, who will be dying shortly, (MAID) for I did promise I would come, and thanked my lucky stars. She is so compromised she could not turn her head to see the thick flakes falling outside her window. Daffodils and encouragement for her in place, once on the ferry, I met an old acquaintance who told tales of cars jack-knifing, as I relayed my highway travel was a slow 40 mph. We, in the west, do not do snow well. 

Roses in the snow in my garden. 

Once home, I collapsed. My bones were cold. The next day, my body refused to move. All I wanted was breakfast, morning, noon, and night. No hard stuff. Okay. Done. Besides, omelettes for dinner are my fave. 

On the good side, roses are blooming in the snow.
And that, my friends, is the contradiction of where I happily abide. 

Special Visitor

 By Maryanna Gabriel

In Canada we have Spirit Bears. Here in the Southern Gulf Islands is a spirit deer.

A herd of deer often surround the house and are astonishingly pretty. They have colours ranging from black to brown, red to butterscotch, and are sometimes dappled with tan spots. One is white. She is pregnant. Intrigued, I researched further.

Fallow Deer originated in Persia, Turkey, and Anatolia and in parts of Europe, which seems terribly exotic. I notice in my reading that a zoo in Beijing has two white Fallow Deer, so it is a little startling. In this region, one is usually entreated to the brown Mule Tail Deer. Rumour has it, (and this was told to me at the local hardware store by a landscaper from the Comox Valley, so you will know it must be true,) that an enterprising soul introduced the deer when she brought them to the island to farm. Eventually, they were released.

One day I glanced out the kitchen window and around eight bucks strolled by. Their antlers were magnificent in that the colouration was the same ruddy red as an Arbutus. Others were chestnut coloured. A friend and I wondered it meant the antlers were bloodied from a recent shed of velvet or if this was the natural colour. It feels magical when they pass through, so I move quietly so as not to frighten them. I am glad they are skittish, for they need to be. There is always someone who wants to capture beauty that is spirit by killing it and nailing it to a wall.

Delicacy of Care

By Maryanna Gabriel

They uplift the spirit. The exquisite Annas Hummingbird does not migrate and are a joy to watch in the winter. Their whizzing forms hum and chirp amid flashes of iridescent tropical colour. I just watched a documentary about a man in Victoria who studies and films these hummers. He noticed a change in behaviour with one and went to investigate. At the foot of the tree, the size of a white navy bean, was a tiny broken egg.

He revealed it on his lens cap so tenderly it made me want to cry. In what is often a harsh world, this man was noticing a tiny mother's loss and the most delicate of tragedies. He said, some of the best kept secrets are in our own backyard.

 Such a dear man.

There is good news. The other egg survived. He watched as she fed her chick every four minutes. Such caring. Should be world headlines. 

I must get to the feeders today with fresh nectar. Busy, busy.