One upon a time turning the calendar from July to August made me wince. September meant the pending loss of a loved one: summer past. Continue reading
In the interval since my last post, my bathroom renovation—a testing journey of fits and starts which began mid-January—finished. Finally.
It took six months to swap out the sink, toilet, tub and trim; and install a countertop, a mirror, new tile and light fixture. People build a whole house in that amount of time. Continue reading
My review of the Boy–yes, another one of those creative tweaks of traditional capitalization–by Betty Jane Hegerat ran almost a week ago. Continue reading
Mt. Baker over Abbotsford, BC rice field
With Mt. Baker (whom I affectionately call Beka-san) presiding beyond the wall, the view–but for the different smell and absence of muscular pines–is not unlike being in Japan.
But no, this is the first experimental sake-grade rice crop growing in Canada from which Masa Shiroki hopes to produce 100% Canadian jizake (local sake) later this year. Continue reading
They say it is the worst spring in the Pacific Northwest since 1955. Sometimes wet, sometimes not but almost every day relentlessly gray: bone gray, slate gray, dirty sheep’s wool gray, elephant gray, battleship gray, leaden gray, silver gray, and on a good day light that could pass for platinum gray. Today it’s powdered ash gray. Continue reading
The last of the late-blooming sakura have vanished into leaves now. I was asked to contribute reflections of my afternoon as a volunteer during Vancouver Mokuyokai Society‘s Ohanami (cherry blossom viewing) earlier in April.
You can read the essay which will appear in the upcoming Mokuyokai Monthly newsletter here first. Read: Musings of an Ohanami Volunteer
My review of Catherine McKenzie‘s latest novel Arranged ran in Tuesday’s Globe and Mail. To check it out click here. I recommend it for an in-flight read when you need to pass the time agreeably and don’t want to be disturbed by all that’s wrong with the world.
There’s a story—perhaps it’s true. During World War II Ghurkha officers were not counted at curfew as some would slip into the enemy encampment with their khukuris (15-inch curved blades). However, the following morning all would be accounted for at roll call.
It is reported that officers awakening in the enemy camp would say, “Well, we lived through another night.” To which would come the reply, “Shake your head.” Continue reading
Though it is difficult to bear witness to destruction and pain of the magnitude caused by the Great Eastern Japan Earthquake Disaster (東日本大震災 Higashi Nihon Daishinsai), the stories of valour and resilience continue to encourage me in spite of the overwhelming rubble, grief and fear I see. Continue reading
Transience seems heavier this year—not the least insubstantial or aesthetic or poetic as drifting cherry petals might suggest.
Transience wipes towns from maps. Transience waits on the floor of an evacuation centre surrounded by neatly taped cardboard and folded heaps of blankets. Transience accepts kindergarten graduation certificates on behalf of two missing daughters.
In mere minutes Transience shatters taken-for-granted concepts: a safe country, a place to call home.
