A Welcome Rain

     I am very influenced by the weather.  I am always more upbeat and motivated when it is sunny, and find myself dragging when it is gray with overcast, but despite that, I am very happy that we have gotten an overnight rain which is, continuing through the day.  It has been getting so very dry.

    The soil in my garden was beginning to have the texture of dust.  A couple of times I have hand watered those things that I have planted, just to encourage them to keep growing.  I think this rainfall will be a much needed soaker for the garden.

    Now days, the other reason for hoping for rain has been the threat of forest fires.  Last week we did see a plume of white smoke rising on the other side of the river and I later heard that a water bomber had been called in to deal with it.  Fortunately, this year the Robson Valley has so far been spared from forest fires.  That is not the case in Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta, and the Peace River area of BC.  They are presently suffering from massive forest fires, that have caused the evacuation of whole communities and cities.  Soon I suspect the smoke from those fires will be choking cities in the US.

    In the thirty-five years I have lived in Canada, I have certainly seen a shift in the climate.  Things that used to be moderate events have, more and more, become extreme and dangerous events.  Every summer now, Canada has been experiencing huge, record-breaking, destructive forest fires.   I am sure happy that our area has received this much needed rain.  It certainly eases my concerns for a while.

    

You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

How Many Years Have I Been Pushing A Lawn Mower?

     The other day when I was mowing the lawn,  I got one of the deja vu moments, like I had been here before, and when I started thinking about it, it was true, I had been pushing a lawn mower around for just about all of my life.  

    It began the summer when I was ten years old.  I was big enough to start the lawn mower by pulling on the cord, and then once it was started, pushing heavy lawn mower around the bumpy yard.  Soon my enterprising parents got me my first official job:  Mowing the Oak Ridge Cemetery, the small local cemetery, just a house away from where we lived. 

    I can’s say I loved the job, because I didn’t.  It was a bummer just having to push our lawn mower along the side of the road over to the cemetery, while juggling the heavy, swaying, gas can in my hand. It was always a hassle yanking and pulling on the cord, trying to get the finicky gas engine to start.  Once it was started I spent an hour or so pushing the machine around all of the gravestones inside the cemetery, and then mowing the small area sloped area under the oak trees, between the cemetery and the road.

    Once the job was completed, my T-shirt was soaked in sweat and I was tired, but I then had to push the lawnmower while carrying the gas can, back to our house.  However, the hot and boring chore was quickly forgotten once I was given the three dollars for my labors.

    When summer ended, I remember going back to school starting the sixth grade.  Mr. Mohr, our young and vibrant teacher asked each of us how we had spent the summer vacation.  When I told him I had mowed a cemetery, he cleverly quipped, “Wow, you worked with a lot of people under you.”

    My family built a new house further up the road in what used to be a field,  While it was nice to have my own bedroom, I was somewhat dismayed when I discovered that what used to be a field, became our yard, and I was the one who had to mow it.  

    On those hot and humid summer afternoons, I found myself, circling our huge lawn pushing the lawnmower.  I hated it.  What made the job even worse was the fact that from our lawn, we could see kids swimming in the swimming pool of Clearcrest Country Club.  Life just didn’t seem fair, and I came to hate mowing the lawn.

    However, hating it like I did, I couldn’t seem to shake the job.  In high school and even later during part of my university years, I made spending money by mowing people’s lawns.  Of course, once we had moved to Canada and had our own place, every summer I find myself still pushing a lawn mower around.

    Below is a winter photo of Oak Ridge Cemetery, the site of my first mowing job.  Last time I heard, they had been paying someone $75 each time they mowed it.  That is sure a lot more than the three dollars I used to get.

You can see my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

The Succession of Flowering Plants

     There are so many changes that take place as Spring evolves.  One of the joys I have while doing my daily walks around the pond is watching the succession of blooming plants.  Fortunately for the pollinators, plants don’t all bloom at the same time; the take turns blooming so the pollinators always have something to feed on throughout the summer.  This timing of blooms also works out for the plants because it means there are always hungry pollinators around when their turn comes up.

    The dandelions flowers that covered my lawn have bloomed and now are in decline, as are the blooms on the fruit trees, so pollinators are looking for other blooms to feed on.  Luckily, the sweet smelling Lilac bushes have stepped up to the plate to provide a further opportunity for the pollinators.

    Over the last couple of days on my walk around the pond, I also noticed that the Lady Slippers (above) have suddenly bloomed along the path, and the developing cone-shaped bloom stems of the Lupine (below) have also started to develop flowers and are showing color.  These flowering “cones” which are presently about five inches (12cm) in length, will stretch out to more than a foot (30cm) as the blooms mature and enlarge along the growing stem.  

    “To every thing, turn, turn, turn,  there is a season, turn, turn, turn.”

    

Take a look ay my paintings :  davidmarchant2.ca

Blown' in the Wind

     Throughout the winter and early spring, our jam has been has been doing our playing inside the McBride Train Station lobby.  In the Spring when the weather outside warms, we move out onto the porch to play,  but because it has been a cool Spring, it wasn’t until yesterday that it looked like it would warm enough to play outside. 

    I sent out an email to inform everyone that we would be playing outside on the porch.  I hate making decisions that rely on future weather because I am generally wrong, but it did look like the temperatures would be warm enough.

    Unlike playing inside in the small lobby where we can hear each other, when we play outside the sound doesn’t carry very far, so I had to drag out our PA system so we could use microphones for the vocals.  I had to relearn how to pack my car to carry the PA speakers, mics, mic stands, and amplifier,, as well as all of the music stands that we use.

       Throughout the day yesterday we had strong winds, and I had my fingers crossed hoping they would abate, but unfortunately they didn’t.  When I got to the train station the wind was still blowing like crazy.  The wind was was strong enough to blow over a music stand.  I did set up the PA, system, but when we tried it out, we kept getting a loud roar from the blowing wind on the mics, so we ended up not using it.  

    We are rather spread out on the porch and with the wind, it was hard to hear one another, but it didn’t stop us from playing.  Everyone had to use clothes pins to hold down the pages in their song books and prevent them from turning in the middle of a song.

    The wind also caused everyone to get chilled as the evening progressed.  This caused a constant flow of people going back to their cars to get jackets and hats, and even some blankets were brought out.

    The blustery weather did inspire us to play “Blowin’ in the Wind”, a song we hadn’t done for a long time.

    It wasn’t the best start to our outside playing season, but we persisted, and unless it is raining next Tuesday, we will be outside on the porch again.

    I didn’t get around to take a photo last night, but the 2024 picture above does show the group in their jackets and hats.

View ny paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Having To Play God

 This is a sad incident that happened in 1994:

    I noticed that one of my male goats had a swollen and decaying groin which had gotten to the point where the goat no longer wanted to go outside with the rest of the herd.  I realized that this probably meant the end for him.  That is the hardest part of owning livestock, you have to play god.  I didn’t want to see the goat suffer any longer as it deteriorated further, so I decided I needed to “put it down”.  I didn’t own a gun so I had to figure out how I could do it.

    I remembered that a Forestry employee I knew who worked in Prince George had tragically lost a daughter one winter due to carbon monoxide poisoning in the car.  She had been parking with her boy friend with the engine running, and carbon monoxide seeped into the car killing both of them.  It didn’t sound as if they had struggled as they died, so I decided I would try to end the goat’s life with carbon monoxide.

    I started the truck and let it run, then captured the carbon monoxide coming out of the exhaust pipe in an extra large heavy duty plastic trash bag.  I then held the opening of the bag tightly around the muzzle of the goat, who didn’t fight it.  The goat just began taking deeper and deeper breaths, and slowly, without struggle, it died.  While I was sad about killing the goat, I was happy that I had accomplished it without it struggling.  It seemed to be a good way to go.  

    Of course the next problem I was confronted with was what to do with the goat’s corpse.  Fortunately, where I live we are surrounded by wilderness and wild animals, so I decided to haul the goat’s body, out to far away creek, distant from any people or houses, and I just left the goat’s body there in the bush, so the coyotes and bears could have themselves a meal.

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Days of Wildlife Spotting

             One of the reasons we moved to the Robson Valley was to live in a relatively pristine environment and hopefully see a lot of wildlife.  That was also why I had my pond dug in 1993.  It was an attempt to attract more wildlife to our property, especially aquatic-based wildlife, of which we previously had none.

            During the spring of 1994, when my pond had filled, I did begin to see it start to attract water insects and then waterfowl.  Days would pass when I would see no wildlife, then every once and a while, there would be a day when I would see a myriad of critters for some reason.

        I was always surprised when one of those “Wildlife Days” happened.   One of those days when all of the critters came out was May 15, 1994.  I saw mallards on the pond at 8:00, then fifteen minutes later I spotted a bear in Mrs. Nail’s field.  Twenty minutes after that, a deer walked across our yard.  That evening there were two small ducks swimming in the pond;  a new species for me:  Green-winged Teals (photo above).

    Three days later, there were four wood ducks swimming on the pond in the evening, and saw the first bat of the year, circling and darting around at dusk.  I noticed some tent caterpillars on the bark of some of Mrs. Nail’s aspen trees.  That was sobering, because for the three previous years, trees in Dunster and part of outlying McBride, aspen trees had been heavily impacted by the leave-stripping caterpillars.

    Next day there were six wood ducks (three couples) feeding on the manure on the dam and swimming in the pond. Later, when I was herding my goats below the dam on the far side of the pond, I  noticed a coyote over in Mrs. Nail’s field eyeing me and the goats.

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Wait A Minute; Those Aren't Mallards

      One day toward the end of April of 1994, for some forgotten reason I got up at 5:30 and then happened to look out the window toward my newly filled pond.  I noticed “the Mallards” that I had seen the previous week, out swimming on the pond.  I grabbed my binoculars to watch the, and to my surprise, discovered that they weren’t the mallards after all.  I wasn’t sure what they were.  I dug out one of my bird books, and discovered that they were Wood Ducks. 

            Wow, I had a pair of beautifully adorned Wood Ducks swimming around on my pond.  I had never dreamed anything that exotic would be out there.

      The Wood Ducks seemed to be using the pond as one of their stopping off places, and they were very flighty, and flew off anytime they saw someone out in the yard.  I was very excited about them being on my pond, and hoped they would adopt it as their summer home.

    In the following weeks we spotted the pair of Wood Ducks periodically on the pond, as well as a pair of Canada Geese and Mallards.  Then one day a third Wood Duck (another male) appeared.  (The photo above shows two male Wood Ducks. 

          I had spread some goat manure on the dam to help the grass seed to grow, and that manure had a lot of oats in it that my goats had wasted.  It didn’t take long for the ducks to discover those oats in the manure I had spread and they began to make numerous trips up to the top of the dam to feast on the oats.

    One evening I was watching the Wood Ducks from the house.  They walked up on the dam to feed, then after a while, waddled back down to the water to swim.  Then I noticed that the female began to stretch out flat on the surface of the pond quite unnaturally, and looked like a beaver swimming.  I was sure something was wrong with her, and I began feeling guilty that maybe she had eaten some of the goat droppings that were in the manure I spread.  I feared I had poisoned the duck by having those goat droppings in the manure.

    Then something happened that suddenly relieved those fears and guilt that were building up inside me;  the male wood duck mounted the female for mating.  I assumed that the female’s lowering into that position, signaled to the male that she was ready to mate.  I felt like a biologist who had made some amazing discovery, but it was just a discovery for me.  I did feel really good about the wood ducks feeling so secure in my pond, that they felt safe to mate. 

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

1994: Watching My New Pond Come Alive

     In the fall of 1993, I took a gamble and hired a man with a Caterpillar bulldozer to dig a pond in what was my pasture.  I wanted to create wildlife habitat.  I wasn’t sure how it would all work out, but I was willing to give it a try.  Surprisingly, over that winter the big hole that had been dug in my pasture, slowly filled with water, topped by ice and snow.  By March of 1994, my  pond was fully filled and water had begun to flow out of the overflow.  I anxiously awaited all of its ice to melt.

    Once the ice was gone I was surprised at the turquoise-color of the water, caused by the bare clay at the bottom.  It was a beautiful color, but I urgently wanted to get some aquatic plants growing in the pond.  I gathered local cattails and spread their fluff on the water, hoping that their seeds would grow, and they did.  I also gathered some long water lily tubers that I saw floating at Horseshoe Lake and stuck them under water in he mud, hoping they would grow, and they did.

    All of the caterpillar work on the newly built dam remained bare ground, and so I seeded grass and spread some of my goat manure lightly over the seeds, to hold moisture so the grass seeds would germinate and grow.  

    I eagerly walked around the pond every day to monitor what was happening.  I was overjoyed to see some aquatic insects taking up residence on the pond.  The first ones I saw were boatman bugs with their beetle-like bodies and long rear legs that acted like oars as they paddle along the surface of the water.  Then days later, I saw water striders, spider-like insects with long spindly legs that allowed them to walk and stride across the surface of the water.

    I had no clue where those insects came from or how they arrived, but I was happy to see them take up residence in my newly built pond.  Since this was the beginning of the ponds first year, I wondered what those insects were eating, because nothing was growing in the pond yet.

    What I really wanted to see was some bigger wildlife, and happily, they were soon to come.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

The Last Wolf by Margaret Mayhew

     As I have mentioned several times before, our Library’s Book Club is set up differently than most book clubs.  Normally members of a book club all read the same book and discuss it.  In our book club members are given a theme, then they can pick out and read any novel they want with that theme, then we discuss the various topics that come up in those novels that are read.  Our theme for May was “Mysteries in Historical Fiction.”  One of the books I chose was The Last Wolf  by Margret Mayhew.

        Because I like to do my reading on my iPad, I went onto library’s Libby App and did a search for “Historical Fiction” and “Mystery”.  Among the many choices presented I chose and downloaded The Last Wolf, and I found it to be a very interesting and enjoyable read.

            The story begins in 1936 on an island off of Scotland, where Stroma, a ten year old girl, and Hamish her older brother spend their childhood summers with their grandparents.  While they live in London with their parents, they both really loved being on the small out of the way island, exploring the very rural and natural life it provided.  Their grandparents lived without electricity or hot water.  Although it was a rather old fashion rural life, the two kids love it.

    That summer, a sailing ship docked in the rather large, but hidden harbor just down from their grandparents house.  The ship was owned by a German naval man, who was taking his two sons on a sailing excursion.  He was an ex-U-boat captain, and wanted to show his boys the secret harbor where he had sheltered his U-boat during World War I when it needed some maintenance.

            Seventeen year old Reinhard, one of the sons, walked up a path to explore the island and ran into ten year old Stroma.  He knew a bit of English, and the two enjoyed meeting each other.  The Germans were invited to dine at Stroma’s grandparents large house that night.  When the Germans sailed away, Stroma and Reinhard continued their friendship by writing each other over the years.

    Of course, with the start of World War II, their communications and friendship became strained and ended, due to the fact that Reinhard had followed in his father’s footsteps, becoming a U-boat officer and later a U-boat commander.  U-boats gained the well deserved reputation of being murdering predators, preying upon British and American ships, which usually were not military ships, but rather supply freighters and even passenger ships, killing both crews  and civilians.  U-boats would make sneak attacks both alone as a “lone wolf” or in groups and were were referred to as “wolf packs,” thus the “wolf “reference in the novel’s title.

    While Reinhard fought for Germany, Stroma now a young woman, helped her country’s war effort by becoming a “Wren” working in the secret underground British military office, monitoring the location of ships and U-boats.  

The storyline was set up to alternate between what Reinhard was doing, and what Stroma was doing.  I found the parts about Reinhard very interesting; telling about the horrific living conditions in a submarine, and just how deadly effective their attacks were in trying to stop the freight ships carrying  supplies from North America to England.

Although my search had classified this novel as both “Historical Fiction” and “Mystery”, there really was no mystery.  Only mystery I saw while reading and assuming that by the end of the novel, Stroma and Reinhard would somehow end up together, was just how that might happen, amidst all of the extreme hatred and antagonism between England and Germany during the war.  The novel did of course, resolve that mystery. 

You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Blogging And Awareness

     Throughout my life I have always taken pictures and searched for images that would make a good photo, but then in 2014 I started blogging with the idea that every day I would try to take a photo of something I find interesting or beautiful and blog about it.  The pressure of trying to find something of note everyday has really forced me to notice the world around me, as I search for something to write about. 

    Of course I don’t come across something beautiful or interesting to blog about everyday, so I often have to supplement the blog by to digging up something from my past to write about,  but making myself search keeps my eyes wide open and makes me much more aware of the the things around me, and that in itself, is a really positive thing. 

    Yesterday I noticed the crabapple tree in our yard that was showing off its vibrant deep pink blossoms.  It somehow seemed out of place surrounded by all of the various shades of green that surrounded it.  Last year because of cold weather conditions, it and our apple trees didn’t bloom at all, so it was a welcome sight to see things were back to normal this year.  

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Those Memorable Coffee Breaks

     As a kid, I remember clearly during those family gatherings with my grandparents, how their conversations always ended up with talk of the diseases and the deaths of their acquaintances and friends.  That seemed a strange thing to talk about to my adolescent ears.   Now that I have reached my  own dotage years, and see my own friends and acquaintances suffering from disease or dying, I too now feel what my grandparents had been feeling those many years ago.

    This last weekend certainly made that clear to me.  While attending the Memorial for friendly Charlie Leakes, I heard that Roger WIltsie, an old co-worker from my days working for the BC Forest Service had just died. 

    I will always remember those coffee breaks at Forestry, how Roger and Grant Henry, both veteran employees with a wonderful sense of humor, used to keep the staff in stitches with stories about their misadventures in those earlier days working for the Forest Service.  

    Without roads to get to the forested areas they needed to get to, they often had to use “Speeders” (very small railcars) as their mode of transportation, and travel down railroad tracks, and the panic they endured upon seeing an oncoming train and trying to get the speeder off the track.  There were stories of forestry trucks catching fire, leaving them stranded in the bush without help or communications to get help.  I remember a story about driving up to Prince George for a meeting on the yet officially un-opened Highway 16.  

    Listening to their stories, I always thought, someone should record or write down their tales, and thinking back, I guess I should have, because no one else did, and now I have forgotten them.  

    Roger and Grant were both “Old School” forestry employees, but yet they welcomed me, a long-haired counter-cultured environmentalist with many opposite views, into their friendships.  

    Roger grew up in a farm family in McBride, and ran a farm himself while working at Forestry.  I hadn’t seen Roger for at least a decade, because he had moved to Vancouver Island.  I last saw Grant, who had also moved away from McBride, a few years ago at a memorial Bob Elliot, another close forestry friend who had passed away.  Grant was still the same smart, quick, and witty person I had liked so much, but I have since heard that he now has dementia.  

    Growing older makes one face the deterioration of their own physical self, but it is also painful hard to hear of the loss of friends who had meant so much to your life.

    The photo above is shows the last of several forestry buildings where so many wonderful stories were told.   Unfortunately, I don’t have any photos of Roger or Grant.

    

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Mottled Sunlight on Paintings

     I remember someone saying that after you have a painting on the wall for two months, you don’t see it anymore, and to a certain extent that is true.  Your eyes get used to seeing it there, and so you no longer take notice of it.  

    As you might expect, I have a lot of my paintings hanging on the walls, which I guess I normally don’t pay any attention to, but ever once and a while, sunshine and shade from outside will filter through the windows which give the paintings a whole new feel.  

    Some of the areas and colors are highlighted, while in other places the colors are darkened.    They often give the painting a whole new power and intensity.  I love seeing what that sunshine and shade do to the paintings, and sometimes wish I had painted them with that extra contrast.  Here are some examples of sun and shade on some of my paintings.

You can see my paintings (without mottling) at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Charlie Leake Memorial

     This has been a weekend of connecting with friends.  On Saturday I did it at the Dunster Market, and yesterday I attended the memorial for local aviator and friend, Charlie Leake who died last year.  Charlie grew up in McBride, became a Lt. Col. from the Royal Canadian Air Force, then retired and continued flying privately upon moving back to McBride.  I met him when I was working for the BC Forest Service where he did a lot of contract flying.  At yesterday’s memorial I was happy to run into several of my old forestry workmates and was able to catch up with their current lives.  

    If you want to know more about Charlie, here is a link to a blog I about him in December:

http://www.davidmarchant2.ca/Color_and_Light_2/Blog/Entries/2024/12/30_2024_Losses__Charlie_Leake.html

    The activities that took place at Charlie’s memorial largely centered around the Tiger Moth bi-plane that he owned, which is now owned by a local guy who now lives in Prince George.  The bi-plane flew around all afternoon entertaining the crowd at the memorial.  Charlie’s ashes were spread from the Tiger Moth as it flew over Teare Mountain, (which is the peak you can see in the photo above).

    While I mostly associate the Tiger Moth with Dr. Cowburn, who owned it and flew it during most of those early years after we moved to McBride, Charlie bought it when Dr. Cowburn could no longer fly it, and we were happy that the bright yellow bi-plane continued to periodically accent the skies over McBride.  

    I took a lot of photos of the plane doing by-passes for the crowd.  It was wonderful to see the old canvas, wire, and wood bi-plane whizz by and do turns and loops with the mountain peaks in the background.  The bottom photo shows a young Charlie Leake as a jet fighter pilot.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Dunster Market Season Opening

     Yesterday was the season opening of the Dunster Market and so we drove to the Dunster Community Hall to join the crowds buying bedding plants, art work, grilled burgers, and of course, doughnuts.  There were lots of people on hand (unfortunately, although I had my camera along the whole time, I didn’t think about taking a photo until we were leaving, and by that time, the crowd had thinned out considerably)

    We bought some red cabbage bedding plants and some marigolds, which we plant beside the cabbages to keep the bugs away from them.  We also stood in the long line for some homemade doughnuts being sold by a young Mennonite  woman.  I was surprised to see on her sign:  “We do e-transfers.”  That was something I hadn’t ever associated with Mennonite women.

    Beside the bedding plants and doughnuts, the big draw of the Dunster Market opening is running into  old friends and acquaintances from Dunster and Valemount, as well as McBride, to do some catching  up with what is happening in their lives.  I heard about a death of a friend that I wasn’t aware of, and of course, hearing about how of our aging friends are dealing with getting older.  I am always a bit surprised at how many “new” people were there; people I didn’t know.  When we were younger we knew most of the people we ran into.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

An Unexpected Frost

     This year I decided to start my corn inside the house to give them a head start instead of planting the kernels outside in the garden like I usually did.  I figured that would increase my chances of actually getting some ears of corn this summer.  I must have started the corn too soon, because they grew too quickly in the house, and I felt pressured to plant them in the ground before they got too big.  

    Transplanting the corn in the ground didn’t really work out very well for me.  The spring weather remained cooler than the corn preferred and then on Wednesday night we got a frost.  I saw that the nighttime  temperature was due to dip below freezing, so I did cover my corn plants with a plastic sheet to protect them from the cold, but they still suffered.  Above you can see how forlorn my corn plants now look.

    On the positive side, that cold temperature did give me some the nice photos of mist on the pond that I showed you yesterday, and below is a shot of a frosted Lupine that I also took.  It got so cold that the drops of water that were nestled in the center of the Lupine foliage even froze.

    

You can see my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Mist on the Pond

     While I take my camera with me just about every time I take my morning walk around the pond, usually I don’t find anything to take a photo of.  However on Wednesday morning there had been a frost overnight and the warmer water in the pond created a mist that I found very photogenic.  Here are a couple of pictures that I took of the mist hanging over the pond.

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca