Left

It seemed like all the cars in the lower mainland were in Langley today and all of them wanted to turn left. 

especially

Always watch out for jay walkers.
Especially small ones.
Especially four legged pedestrians.

Winding up the hill from River Road, the woods press in.
Trees lean.
Undergrowth is dark and deep.

He didn't even pause.
Just dove onward.
Little rippling weasel.
He seemed to glide onto the road like a ribbon pulled by some invisible hand.

I tried not to brake too hard or swerve.
Safety first, right?
I squinted and held onto the steering wheel, my eyes unable to avoid the rear view mirror.

Oh, there he was.
Safe and sound.
He'd run in a circle like a wind up toy and was heading for the far side of the road now.
Rippling over the grassy verge.
Gone from sight into the tangle of blackberry.

how startling

You'll never believe what I saw on my way to work.
I could hardly believe my eyes.
I actually cried out in surprise.
There it was silhouetted against the gray sky near the top of a giant tree.
Way, way, way up in an old cottonwood..
Too big for the branch it huddled on, it nervously waved a paw in the air as if trying to flag down help.
Call 911.
Call the Fire Department.
Call the SPCA. 

It was a raccoon.
A very tense raccoon, clutching a branch high overhead.
It looked so out of place.
A big round ball of fur like an oversized Christmas ornament.
The branch it clung to seemed fearfully small.
What would have made a full grown raccoon climb for its life.
No dog in sight.
No people.
My car sped on but the raccoon remained firmly fixed on memories big screen.

That evening, the news reported a missing wallaby in the Langley area. A pet wallaby from the other side of the world.
It apparently hopped away.
Sprang off into the unknown.
How startling for our native wildlife.
To be ambling along, nibbling here and sniffing there to glance up at approaching footfall. Bounding footfall.
Stranger danger!
A tall tree could seem a necessity.

plaintive

Our old truck has survivor guilt.
I didn't realize that until today.
Then I put two and two together.

Our car was stolen a couple months ago.
Sometime in the dimly lit hours of the morning, with only the moon and the old truck as witnesses.
Gone.
The driveway looked strangely empty the next morning as I stood staring in disbelief.
"Where did you park the car?" I called up the stairs to my husband, my voice quavering.
I knew the answer.
I knew, but I just didn't want to believe.

Can you love a car?
Ours was a dear and faithful friend.

Yesterday as we hastened across a parking lot to the truck, I remembered The Love Bug and as a joke, called, "Herbieeeeeee, Herbieeeeee."
How startled we were to hear,
across the sea of cars,
a plaintive, "Beeeeeep?"

proof

"Old MacDonald had a farm, e-i-ee-ii-oohhhhh," we warbled as my granddaughters and I skimmed along the highway towards home.
"And on his farm he had a..."
I waited expectantly.
"Alligator!" cried my tiny granddaughter.
Alligator?! Must be a farm in Florida.
"With a..."
The girls happily supplied the sound effects in unison. It was a wonderful hissing growl. Just the sort an alligator would make.
As I drove along listening to my two, dainty darling granddaughters hissing and growling in the back seat it occurred to me that if ever proof was needed of a big brother, I was listening to it.

things seen

I love lists and so I have compiled one for you of Things Seen From the Window of the Bus on my trek into town this morning.
1. bird nests
2. garden gates
3. giant ice-cream sundae mountain peaks
4. a swirl of crows
5. a Flicker almost invisible against the yellowed grass
6. a Great Blue Heron standing as still as a statue in a field at the edge of town
7. a man peeing on the corner of his house

flat tale

Animals cross roads.
They do.
I sometimes wonder why though in a sort of 'why did the chicken cross the road' way.
If, for example, a beaver has a lovely pond and creek and plenty of trees to gnaw, why would it choose to cross a wide and worrisome road to get to the other side?
What about the risk factor?
I pondered all of these things last week as I hastened off to work on a cool, Spring morning.
Ahead, a movement at the side of the road caught my eye.
A big, brown beaver clambered out of the ditch and hesitated at the side of the road.
It was almost as if it was doing the math.
If a car is heading northbound at 70 km an hour and a beaver, 100 meters away begins to cross the road, how wide must the road be to allow for a satisfying conclusion for the beaver?
The beaver and I both did our quick calculations.
It launched itself onto the road and I launched myself onto the horn.
Bleat, blat, bleat!
Back it scurried.
On I sailed.
It's flat tail was the last thing I saw in my rear view mirror.
Flat tail as opposed to flat beaver.

gone viral

I've gone viral apparently.
At least that's the doctors view on things.

My doctors office is in Fort Langley.
Such an interesting drive from Aldergrove.
Straight towards the distant mountains.
The road begins to  wind and then there's a slight downwards tilt to the world, sort of a warning of things to come. Sure enough, a corner, another corner and there you are, perched at the top of a steep winding hill, the sort that would have made you clench your teeth in fright as a kid on a rusty two wheeler, the sort that is a tobogganers dream.
Down your car hurtles and you enter another land all marshy and bird filled. Rows of ruby branched blueberries march off into the distance. Heron sweep over head. The Fraser River beckons.

Fort Langley is a pretty charming little town.
I used to wish I lived there.
My doctors office is right beside a grave yard.
Isn't that funny?!
Kill or cure.

When I jumped out of my car this week I found myself gazing into the front seat of a car as is often the case in a crowded parking lot.
"Oh my word!" I gasped.
Outloud.
More like..."OH MY WORDDDDD!"
A large daytimer was thrown open upon the front seat.
I have never seen a busier schedule.
Things were scribbled in every possible space.
And every possible space in the car held something too.
Things.
Papers.
Stuff.
I averted my gaze in sympathy.
Later when I returned to the parking lot, and edged between the cars to unlock my own I found myself, apparently unable to refrain from adding, "Wow," as a parting commentary.
Upon reflection, it wasn't the clutter that moved me.
Not at all.
That is just a temporary condition.
Well, maybe not temporary but easily remedied.
Well, maybe not easily but clutter is neither here nor there.
Well, its sometimes here and definitely there....
Oh my goodness, what am I trying to say....
I think it was the daytimer.
The clear attempt some poor soul was making to reign in their busy life.
To create order out of chaos.
That's it for sure.
There was a sense of danger and desperation about that front seat.
I hope it wasn't one of the doctors cars.

summary

An oncoming bus pulled to the curb and a message scrolled above the windshield. "Sorry......not in service."
It seemed a profound summary of my state of mind.

then I realized

As I was driving this week,
homeward bound along a narrow country road
I realized I was feeling something...
something just beyond grasping...
What?
What was I feeling?
And then I realized it was happiness.

take two

I was lost today.
Briefly.
At first I just didn't know where I was going.
But I knew where I was.
That isn't really lost but it feels so awful it may as well be.
Then, after I had hurtled past my freeway exit and the three that followed, and had pulled off the highway into a busy truck stop and had found someone local who knew the lay of the land.......
I found myself headed back from whence I had come with that dizzying feeling you get just as you slide over the cliff....
"We're going to be late," I said, hopelessly.
"Will anyone care?" my mother asked.
Well, I cared....but really, probably no one else would....
I was able to talk myself calm.
I heard once that if you are lost, just change your destination.
I've actually done that once with wonderful results. I'll tell that story another day.
I've also heard that if you are late, just change your arrival time.
I was skeptical but it actually worked.
'You aren't late,' I firmly told myself. 'You won't be late til it's past eleven.'
It was a bald faced lie but amazingly, the knot in my stomache untied and I felt myself depressurize. Yes, eleven, I could do that.
And I did.
It was later going home that I got lost.
Sort of Anguish/Take Two.
For a few brief moments, in an unfamiliar place, I not only didn't know where I was going, but I didn't know where I was.
And I had consulted a Google map that very morning too.
Sigh.
My afternoon at home had more frustration waiting in the wings.
Now why does life do that to us.
When we are teetering on the brink, it huffs and puffs us over the edge.
When I was younger, I spent a lot of time falling over the cliff.
I spent way too much time picking my bruised self up off the rocks.
I've come to recognize that honesty is the best policy.

When I asked myself, kindly, that is important.... the kindly part....when I asked my self why I was feeling distressed, the answer came in a heartbeat.
I am afraid.
I am afraid that I will end up as my mother has, unable to remember all the things I need to remember, the important and unimportant things that make up a life.
I'm afraid of losing my way......

poor elvis

I flicked on the radio, my eyes on the traffic light.
Elvis was in full cry.
He sang about being caught in a trap and at first, I felt kind of sorry for him. By the third chorus my sympathies had dried up like a hot August afternoon.
Suspicious Minds has a nice be-boppy rhythm that is surprising happy sounding considering the lyrics. I did consider the lyrics though, and decided that blazing heat and heavy traffic were enough all by themselves to give me a bluesy feeling without Elvis.
The miles flashed by.
The air-conditioner did what it could and I soon stumbled up the stairs of home.
A fan, a cold drink and supper fresh and summery were there.
And company blithe and bonnie.
Poor Elvis.

team work

I came out into the bright sun and headed across the parking lot to my car.  Standing by the door, key in hand, I found myself staring in my car windows. Was it really my car? The key didn't fit.
I tried again.
Nope.
I peered at my license plate.
My car alright.
What in the world?......
I walked around to the passenger side and unlocked the door.
I reached across and unlocked the driver side.
Back I went, and into the car.
I didn't really think about the lock driving home.
I just assumed the lock had seized up.
Just needed a squirt of oil.....
When I climbed the stair at home, I mentioned the lock to my husband.
He disappeared out the door in a flash.
Moments later he appeared.
It was just as he suspected.
A broken key was jammed in the lock.
He headed for his shop bench and I headed for Google.
I've come to think of Google as The Wise Man of the Mountain.
My husband headed back out armed with a handful of lock picking sorts of things.
I hunkered down in front of the computer and watched a youtube video showing Nine Ways to Remove a Broken Key.
My husband toiled on.
When he returned to the shop for smaller tools,
I tried one of the nine ways but it just didn't work without a second set of hands.
Back he came.
Grimly he crouched by the car door and squinted at the lock as he gripped impossibly small tools with his big hands.
He didn't want my help.
He didn't want my suggestions.
He didn't want the broken key to be in our lock.
There are shifting dynamics in marriage.
I suppose it is because even though we are married to the same person for many years, even though our friendship remains constant, our inner life does not.
It shifts and changes.
There was a time when I would have resented my husband not gladly accepting my help,
not welcoming working as a team.
On that day, I just felt pity.
And, when he disappeared yet again in what I could tell from experience was getting close to being his last desperate effort, I hunkered down before the door and tried one of the Nine Ways to Remove a Broken Key again.
Just as I jiggled the broken piece of key to the edge of the lock, my eyes crossing, my husband appeared like the cavalry over the hill and plucked it out with tweezers.
Team work.

with fog

What is darker than darkness?
Darkness with fog.

The headlights of a car can pierce darkness and even by moonlight the distant horizon is visible in the middle of the night.
But let fog settle like eiderdown and everything changes.
My morning commute last week was darker than dark.
I felt lost.
It seemed as though I must have made a wrong turn even as my mind declared the impossibility.
It was not a good feeling.
Both darkness and fog have their separate charms though.
I love how light drains from the sky with a last flash of sunset brilliance and then all is chill and velvety dark.
The night air becomes infused with sounds unheard by day.
Winter darkness is my favourite.
Moonlight gilds the snow.
Snow absorbs the sound.
The world seems to hold its breath.
You can hear your own steps, your own breath, your own thoughts.
And fog has always seemed a friend to me as well, comforting and gentle.
I love to see the silhouettes of tree and hill melt away into gray and then white.
I love to feel as though the world has pulled a thick quilt up under its chin.
Foggy days make me feel safe and happy;
Two of my favorite feelings.

off course

I drive the wrong direction to work and I'm not alone.
Each morning, people who live east, clamber into their cars and head west, and at the very same time, doors in the west are flung open as commuters leap into their cars and head east.
I am a part of this strange migration.
This cross current commute is not why I admit that I drive the wrong direction to work though.
I've read that birds use the sun and stars to orient themselves as they migrate. I realized yesterday morning for the first time that although I'm in a flock, flapping madly up the freeway, my heart is longing to orient itself by the sun and stars.
Instead, in the early morning as the eastern sky melts into the yellows and golds of the rising sun, I turn my back resolutely and head west towards a leaden sky.
In the late afternoon, as the setting sun casts a flush of coral and mauve upon the western sky , I point my car towards the fading light of the east and hurtle homeward.
No wonder I feel at times like a bird off course.

cranberry pinwheels

It seemed like a good idea to bake something for my co-workers. Something to share at work tomorrow in honor of the new month.

Bread dough is easy and so I made a batch of plain white dough, about one loaf worth.(flavoured with honey and lemon juice)

I thought to add cranberries and create a rustic loaf.

I'd bake it in the morning and let the dough rise over night in the fridge.

Scratch the loaf idea. They take too long to bake. I'd have to wake with the chickens.

Buns it is!

A rectangle of dough, then butter spread, a sprinkle of sugar and frozen cranberries.

A quick roll into a long pinwheel and onto a buttered pan in slices.

Half the cooking time of a loaf and presto, a pan of Cranberry Pinwheels to drizzle with icing and dash out the door with. 

Won't my car smell good? 

comic relief

I pulled out into traffic and pointed the car towards home like a horse towards the barn. I was feeling rather pensive; life can be more drama than comedy by times.
As I picked up speed I noticed a man walking on the shoulder.
Where were his pants??!!
Oh yes, shorts!! He was wearing shorts that were shorter than his baggy jacket.
Baggy black shorts.
But his legs were so pale and skinny.
Mr. Bean came to mind.
I laughed out loud in the car.
When I tried to tell my daughter about it later, I laughed so hard, I cried.
Comic relief.

suddenly

My commute yesterday morning began so uneventfully;
Traffic steaming together toward some invisible destination.
There was road construction as always.
There were lane changes and traffic lights as usual.
The weather was blandly clear, and even the skies held no hint of the unexpected.
And that was probably why I gasped so loudly when the unexpected appeared.
Suddenly,
right in front of me,
flying low,
were five swans.
Five huge, snowy white swans, their necks stretched out, their winds spread wide,
streaming towards some invisible destination.

and dined

I left for work so early this morning that birds were eating their breakfast.
I know this for a fact because a large hawk,
a gray silhouette against the pale sky,
gripped his breakfast under foot high in a tree, and dined.

upper hand

I had an early shift today and so I hurtled off into the cold dark of morning. I must have pulled the short straw because I found myself behind the wheel of the truck.
In the light of day, the truck and I have formed an uneasy alliance, but in the dim light of dawn, the truck has the upper hand. I found myself adjusting dials and switches as though by braille, never completely sure in this unfamiliar territory.
A strange radio, of course, is the worst of all. No preset stations to entertain and comfort. I found myself stabbing at the scan and seek buttons while listening forlornly to a garble of assorted music and news. I eventually gave up much to the trucks delight and I listened to Madonna and Micheal Jackson as the last few miles of my commute flew by. I don't think I have ever really listened to the lyrics of Super Natural before, or Vogue for that matter. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."