September 3rd, 2003

My Open Studio in August began much as last year's antecedent—and brought an eclectic, interesting and interested mix of people from across Canada and U.S., U.K., Switzerland, Germany and Italy.

By mid month, however, the area was in the throes of extreme heat (39+celcius) and rampant forest fires burned around us in south-east B.C.  The Blaeberry Valley filled with smoke to a greater or lesser degree depending on wind direction.  Visitors going up valley couldn’t see the mountains. On one occasion as we watched flakes of ash settle upon us, a visitor from Ottawa asked “Which volcano is that you live under?”

Our daughters were home at the time and we began building a fire break around the buildings as a precaution.

On the Friday before Labour Day long weekend, we drove into Golden to take down a show of my paintings which had been running concurrent with the Open Studio.  A roadblock stopped us at the logging bridge two kilometres from our home.  Guards there informed us the backcountry was closed to all traffic till mid-September because of the extreme fire hazard!  (As the only residents we were allowed in and out!! and for this time had our own private gated community!!)  Actually we breathed a sigh of relief even though the Labour Day weekend had brought last years most concentrated turnout.  We resigned ourselves to a quiet weekend but on Monday were hugely surprised to watch a procession of four adult bicyclers arrive—one pulling an eight month old in a three wheeled baby cart—the kind of group I have more usually seen on our visits to Stanley Park in Vancouver!  They set a precedent—after their departure two more bicyclers arrived.  We thoroughly enjoyed both groups, comprising local people and their visitors from U.K and Italy.  It was a lesson in anticipating the unexpected.  It also made me recall an experience we had when our daughters were very young…

Lisa was in a backpack and Amber in a collapsible stroller we had brought from the former winter of working in the city.  On a beautiful fall day, we decided to relax and enjoy and take a casual stroll up our dirt road to that same logging bridge—the main logging road over the Blaeberry River.  At the time, on our side of the river, only eight inhabitants lived on the 15km of road between us and the highway. Ambling down the middle of the road we rounded a corner and met a truck slowly crawling toward us from the bridge.  It was hunting season. These men had driven through what seemed like many kilometres of wilderness up the other side of the valley.  Imagine their shock and disbelief in encountering, not animals, but a family pushing a baby stroller!

The look on their faces is indelible in my memory!!!

September 20, 2003

A bear visited us last night.  On our first trip to the garden this morning we saw branches from two apple trees lying below them and clawed bark where the bear had climbed to the top to reach the few apples we had been unable to pick.  The chicken wire fence around the garden had been neatly pulled back for entrance.  We were not too surprised. There are no berries this year due to the over hot and dry summer. Our neighbour’s orchard had already been visited.  We comfort ourselves knowing the animals must put on winter fat and, if past performance proves reliable, there will be no serious permanent damage.

The oldest tree has developed a sturdy gnarled trunk over time.  On close examination one can see where a main branch has been trimmed and tarred—after a major part of the tree was broken off by a crashing fir in a wind storm.  More damage was inadvertently done by machinery during the logging of the windfall.  One winter this same tree was badly chewed by hungry deer and elk.  An infestation of caterpillars left it totally bare one spring.  Each time it has survived and sprang back to renewed vitality.  Today I look out the window and see the beginning of its fall splendour—gold and yellow leaves showing like jewels among the green.  In my studio I have a painting done last June—this same tree dressed in the lush beauty of spring blossoms.  Do oppression and hardship encourage renewed vitality and production?  ……Whatever…this is one tough tree!