Weekend: Part 1: A Robin-Andy update and evening entertainment.

Lots of photos this weekend - so many that I've divided them into three posts, this first to update Andy and Robin's story and to add some thoughts about the weekend's evening entertainment.

It has been just about two years since Robin came into Andy's life, after the loss of his previous Corgi, Myoko, broke his heart. As you can see, she has become a very enthusiastic and skilled soccer player.

I met them on Friday afternoon in the park behind my school in North Vancouver. After a professional development day focused on first aid training, my brain was feeling quite fuzzy, and I had gone out to shoot a few photos in the late afternoon light, before heading home. They happened by, and with camera all set to go (I thought), it seemed the perfect opportunity to do a little photo shoot. Unfortunately, some autofocus problems that my brain only managed to solve after they left, meant the theme of fuzzy was to continue a little longer. However, it was heartening to see how much fun Robin is having with Andy.

She is a very vocal dog when soccer fever hits, and Andy mentioned something about yellow cards (warning) and red cards (time to go home).

However, no cards were handed out, and it was obvious that they are a team that works together in harmony. I hope to bump into them again soon, bringing you better pictures to go along with a story that is never far from my heart.

Bill's culinary masterpiece and empathetic ear made Friday evening good. His salad included spinach, kiwis, avocado, raspberries, pear slices, walnuts, and a rennet-free goat cheese. With plain yogurt as a dressing, it was as absolutely delicious as it was beautiful.

Some red wine and very tasty black bean soup (organic brand made by Happy Planet) with broccoli pieces added, rounded out the meal.

On Saturday evening, after a wonderful morning at Iona Island (separate post), we attended the first ever Vancouver South African Film Festival at Empire Granville 7 Cinemas. There was a little bit of confusion finding the theatre (even after arriving, we couldn't see a 7 anywhere on the sign), and that, along with our decision to buy tickets at the door, meant we almost didn't get to see a very fine film. We stood in a "rush" line for quite some time, while every person with tickets was admitted. Finally, we were among the last to be admitted to an absolutely packed theatre.

While standing in line, I amused myself taking pictures of the surroundings. The Commodore across the street looked quite appealing in the city lights, although the booming bass coming through its walls had not only the air but (I swear) the sidewalk vibrating.

There was a small tree just outside the theatre with what appeared in the reflected light to be bright red berries.

When I looked closer, I saw that the "berries" were actually shrivelled leaves.

This sign, over the theatre, is about as risque as my blog gets:) I found it quite beautiful.

All proceeds from The African Film Festival are going to an organization called Education Without Borders, not to be confused with the much larger organization, Teachers Without Borders. The movie, "Skin" tells the story of Sandra Laing, a girl with dark skin, born to white Africaner parents, during the Apartheid. It is a powerful movie, and one that will stay with me for a long time. Human beings throughout history have inflicted terrible suffering on one other, while others have shown inner strength that is close to unfathomable. Both phenomena are highlighted in this powerful movie. Though I was well acquainted with stories of the Apartheid, Sandra's story (she is now in her mid fifties) has brought home the reality of the time and of the aftermath, like no other. See the movie, if you possibly can.

On Sunday, Bill rented a movie called Seven Beauties. It is a classic, one of the all time movie greats, and certainly ahead of its time, but somehow, I had missed it. Made in 1975, directed by Lina Wertmüller and starring Giancarlo Giannini in the main role, it was another movie to force me to ponder mankind's potential for cruelty. Recently, I proclaimed that I no longer wish to view any entertainment that causes me to turn away until Bill gives the "all clear" reassurance. This weekend, I watched two such movies. Proclamations are frequently a poor idea, although the thoughts that precipitate them often seem right at the time. If you haven't seen Seven Beauties, and if you can bear to take yet another look at the atrocities of the holocaust, as expressed with artistry and humour (yes, I have to say, humour), then choose a day when you are feeling strong and spend some time with this movie.

Iona Island and English Bay posts to follow soon. It is pouring outside, but not too cold, and with a little luck, perhaps the forecast for the week will be as wrong as it was for the weekend. Thanks, as always, for taking time to read my blog.

Sunset, Crow story, Night shots, Pea Jacket

Last evening's sunset began quietly. I stopped on the Lions Gate Bridge, as I have done for the past three days. The beacon on the lighthouse was just beginning to twinkle against the fading afternoon light.

There was the faintest tinge of pink over the water.

The spotlight on the bridge girders was not yet bringing out the forest-green hue that I loved in some night shots on Monday.

The view to my right over West Vancouver gave no hint of the transformation to appear as I turned back, seconds later.

Orangey-pink layers and a white-gold sliver of light lined the clouds just behind the mountains.

I continued on my way, thinking it had been a very nice sunset. Instead of biking along the causeway, I took the road through Stanley Park that passes Prospect Point. Through the trees, pinks and oranges were now on fire. A quick shot, and I hurried on, hoping to catch an unobstructed view past the trees.

I haven't taken that backroad for a while, and loved the smooth, downhill ride along the recently paved road. It seemed only seconds later that I arrived at a clearing, but it was as though the sky were playing a game. Only the tiniest hint of pink remained. Now you see me, now you don't. I tried to find a poem that expressed the swiftness of change. Maybe this one by Emily Dickinson?

Out of sight? What of that?
See the Bird—reach it!
Curve by Curve—Sweep by Sweep—
Round the Steep Air—
Danger! What is that to Her?
Better 'tis to fail—there—
Than debate—here—

Blue is Blue—the World through—
Amber—Amber—Dew—Dew—
Seek—Friend—and see—
Heaven is shy of Earth—that's all—
Bashful Heaven—thy Lovers small—

Hide—too—from thee—

On Monday, while I was taking the picture below at the Fell Street lookout, a crow grabbed my lunch. I had set it down on a picnic table in a tightly closed container while I took the photo. I heard the commotion as it dragged the container to the ground. I turned around just in time to see the crow pecking at the cover. I really didn't want to lose the lunch - it was a bean salad that I had just bought at a little restaurant on Harbourside Drive, and it looked delicious. The crow flew just a few feet away as I approached, not brave enough to fight me for the lunch, but staring quite confidently. Perhaps it was one of the crows that had watched me watch ospreys for the past couple of years. I grabbed the lunch, but gave the crow a few of Black Jack's treats that were in my pocket. I think we both thought that was a fair deal. I'm sorry I didn't take a picture of the crow. Lawrence and Olivia's nest is on the left side of the photo - it is the only pylon without a white point. There are no remnants of the nest on the pylon. I wonder if they will return.

Cycling home after dark, the girder on the Lions Gate Bridge seemed a more beautiful shade of green than I had ever noticed before.

From the small look-out area, there is quite a good view of the rest of the bridge.

The walking and bike path is well protected from traffic.

The bike waited in the look-out area.

Fascinated with the girders, I looked to the cages above and thought of the workmen who know the bridge intimately. It is something different, I guess, for each traveler.

Continuing on, I spent a few minutes with the lions,

and read the inscription at the entrance to the bridge.

On Tuesday, as I left school for home, the almost-full moon appeared against a faded pink sky over the buildings on Harbourside Drive in North Vancouver.

On the bridge, there was enough light to catch the blue of the sky and..

the deep purple-navy of the water.

The camera saw the same view, from the same spot, over three days, (mixed order, from Wednesday, to Monday, to Tuesday) at times that varied by perhaps only a half hour, quite differently.

Home again, bike resting safely in the bike room, Black Jack and I walked in David Lam Park. It was impossible to resist taking yet another full-moon shot.

And, an almost forgotten moment from Sunday. A "Pea Jacket" in a plant store caught my eye some time ago, and something made me go back to see it on Sunday (maybe the fact that I was a bit embarrassed in my bike jacket at the Orpheum on Saturday:) Black Jack and I walked to Art Knapp Urban Garden where she was treated to a delicious biscuit and the saleslady warmed my heart by giving me this coat for half price, even though I was preparing to hand out the full amount. When I expressed surprise, she said, "Let's face it. It's about time these winter coats went on sale." I love the coat and the shop and will buy some plants there in the Spring.
Wet snow appears in the light of the street lamp outside my window, as I prepare to leave for school. To bike or not to bike. That is the question. Until the next time. Thanks for reading.

Walks, music, theatre and thoughts on the weekend

It rained on and off for much of the weekend. There was a news story last evening announcing that today is supposed to be the most depressing day of the entire year, but I am still basking in the aftermath of the visual, aural and mental stimulation of the past two days. We are fortunate. We are able to get out and there was much in the city to celebrate and I guess that is my overriding thought as I prepare to start the work week.

The rain stopped for our walk on Saturday morning. The tide was low, and Black Jack and I climbed down on the rocks (more like stones) at the edge of the seawall. A seagull's feathers left an impression of vulnerability and beauty, tinged with sadness.

Two dragon boats came by, the first group perhaps less experienced. They had what appeared to be "tough love" guidance from the girl coaching at the front and the fellow in the zodiac (you may need to click on the picture to see him). I learned from this site that the steersperson at the back is the most important person of all.

This group did not appear to need a coach. They were much more in unison, and passed the other group easily, in spite of starting later. I thought about the people who get up early, train, and push themselves to the limit to work with a team to travel across the water.

Brown feathers here, and I wondered which bird or duck left them behind. I also wondered about the many different hues and shades in the stones.

This is the first time I have seen the eel-like creature out of water that often seems to be disappearing down the long neck of Blue Herons. I found a sight describing B.C. creatures, and know that Wanderin' Weeta (her blog is a feast of information) would instantly identify this, but there just isn't the time before work to figure out its name for myself.

You may want to skip this next picture. It is not horrific looking, but it does show a dead cormorant. I thought about not showing it, but in fact, it has been on my mind most of the weekend - not in an obsessively upset sort of way, but just sitting on my brain, melding with other thoughts. Mostly, I want to know how it died. It appears somewhat peaceful, cradled by the stones. I am surprised that I allowed myself to look closely at it. Death of a wild thing is always disturbing to me.

We stepped back up to the walking path, and this isolated splash of colour reminded me how the view changes every day, sometimes in subtle ways, and sometimes, more dramatically.

These pussy-willowish buds are appearing all around the neighbourhood.

The rain was beginning, and we headed homeward. Engine 374 is housed in a museum around the corner from my apartment. I haven't yet been in that museum, but admission is free and it is on my must-see list. The machine below rests in a strangely neglected and dismal-looking spot by the museum. Strange, because there has been an enormous effort to make the area attractive, except for that one spot. I think Bill explained that machine's function to me once, but that information seems to have slipped over the top of my head. It appears beautiful to me in the photograph.

This is the neglected area described above. The machine rests off camera at the front right.

Saturday evening, we attended the VSO Pops concert: Opera in Love! We walked there in pouring rain and I know that I looked more than a bit bedraggled, roving among many of Vancouver's best-dressed citizens, and unable to stop taking photos of the incredible Orpheum decor.

For now, I will have to leave you with a taste of the view, but little information to credit the artists behind the tapestries. (A project for a day with more time to research.)

The chandeliers are extraordinary. This link gives a few details about the history of the architectural design.

This was the best of many attempts to capture this tapestry. Still a long way to go, but perhaps a little progress as I played with iso and exposure.

The colour is completely off, but here is a sample of the ornate finishing.

The sculpture, Symphonia, on the front wall of the lobby is created by John Nutter.

It is a complex and intriguing work, with hidden splashes of colour, beautifully lit, and waiting quietly in the background.

The inscription here explains that the sculpture is "inspired by the rhythm and melodies of the eternal sea" and is a "tribute to the immortal art of live symphonic music." The music we heard was of such outstanding quality, I found myself with new awareness of the magnificence of Vancouver's symphony orchestra, every section playing with a beauty of tone and with a passion that mesmerized. Add to that the unbelievable strength of the four soloists. Bill commented that after hearing "Le Nozze di Figaro: Non piu andrai" by the baritone, Marcus DeLoach, he couldn't imagine anything to follow that could possibly equal that thrill. Imagine that thrill continuing, for two hours of pleasure, with not a moment of disappointment. To use a cliche, it was a magical evening.

Two more views of the sculpture. I felt the waves, but also..

thought I saw swan-like birds among the images.

On Sunday, we cycled to the Firehall Arts Centre to see the play, "The Pavilion" by Craig Wright. Before we left, I took a photo of this House Finch outside my apartment.

I also observed that the birds (no attempt to identify this morning - not even sure if it is a chick-a-dee or sparrow) are thriving.

They could perhaps do with a little less sustenance:)

A dog passed by, proud of its treasure,

and pretty much ignored by his human, who talked intently on his cell phone.

The camera suddenly strayed from birds to Bill. We were off for a short but very pleasant (and rainless!) ride along the seawall bike path to the Firehall Centre. (Bill did put his helmet on afterwards.)

We arrived early, and although it is in a less affluent section of the city, it slowly became evident that there has been some painstaking work to the beautify the surroundings. The sidewalk beneath our feet was magnificent!

Next door to the theatre is a police museum. I doctored this photo a bit to remove the bird droppings. I like the image of child and policeman. It brings back a memory of my mother always telling me to just ask a policeman for help, if ever it was needed.

I visited the museum once, several years ago, with some students. It was truly fascinating, and Bill and I made a plan to go see it soon.

Just about out of time now, so no links, but if you have not been to the Firehall Arts Centre, I really, really recommend it,

not only for the beauty of its architecture,

but to see The Pavilion before it closes on January 23rd. The play left me with swirling, drifting emotions. There was laughter, sadness, familiarity, poetry, intense admiration for the actors and playwright, as well as a song that I will never forget.

Back to the street art, that continued up the steps to the hall.

A police car was parked outside the museum.

Biking home in the late afternoon, we were again blessed with dry weather. We stopped for a few moments to admire the light, the "spider"

and I noted the recent change of colour in these hedges by the bike path.

I came home, got Black Jack and went back outside to catch a few more glimpses of the afternoon's treasures.

There was a man smoking a cigar in this rock. I'm certain of it, although I doubt he appeared there intentionally.

The bike path we had just travelled, in what seemed to be blue light.

That was the weekend. Time to leave for work. Thanks for reading and happy Monday to you!