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Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Lynn Canyon
Next to the bridge...
Moss moss everywhere...
The paths are leaf covered and wet with clear water constantly running in tiny streams down whatever hill they can find. Air is clean and green-smelling, trees are utterly tall. This was about 4pm, in a bit of a clearing, and otherwise already dark under the canopy...
Even I would not drink a martini here.
I'd love to see this in the sun. It seemed a quintessentially American river. The fork, the white boulders, the aspens, the clear, rapid water.
Crazy Canadian dog...
The pool at the head of this part of the river, and below a cataract that pours into turquoise so deep it is scary. Massive trees crowding round...I kept wondering where Burt Reynolds and his crossbow were.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Stanley Park
This was also a return to apparently typical Vancouver weather...
Sneaky Frenchie.
In the realm of the trees, this is most definitely the memory it evoked. Places through movies...
Leaves. So many leaves.
The north side of Stanley Park, overlooking Burrard Inlet. More a planted park than the wild of the interior...
Lining my ducks up in a row...
Vancouver Moss
The first roof garden I saw, two buildings down from Vince's, with Peace-in-the-Home growing happily on the 20th floor...
Moss on the roots of street tree
A log in Stanley Park
Another log in Lynn Canyon...
Vancouver Street Trees
These are from a 20th floor penthouse...
Walking downtown from Vince's place, trees, trees trees...
More trees
From the seawall a couple of blocks from the Canadian's apartment.
This lovely poplar made me stop in my tracks, even though we were headed for FOOD on Granville Island..also just off the seawall...
Views of Vancouver
Our drive through the dark city by cab gave me no impression of it, so when I woke in the morning and looked out of Vince's windows, the clarity of the light, interrupted by tall rectangular apartment buildings, and made more three dimensional by drifts of cloud lifting off surrounding mountains, rendered somehow aquamarine by the repeated use of frosted glass, the repetition of moss covered buildings with lower rooves, was quite breathtaking.
There are just so many things to say about the layered beauty of this city that I must start with its city views, at least the ones I've seen. And my first day was one of apparently almost unprecedented sun - so my impression is of a city of white, turquoise and green with licks of maple red.
From a penthouse garden in the West End
From Georgia Street to the North Shore
From another penthouse terrace, north over Stanley Park...
A terrace from a terrace...Kathy Frasien showed me three of her roof gardens, giving me a very privileged view of the city...
Rush hour traffic...2pm on a Friday, just like Cape Town!
From Granville Island to the West End...another roof garden.
More from Granville Island, which we reached by tiny bathtub with motor...
Vince's view facing east...
Vince's view north...
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Now and Then
The Iceberg in May...Pow! Six months ago...2007 is ticking on.
The next post will be Vancouverian and I have no idea what it will be! I may dedicate it to Vivian, at Holly, Wood and Vine, who discovered, at the last moment, that the course on greenwalls that I wanted to attend was being held in Vancouver next week, thus extending my stay by a couple of days.
In fact no, the next post will be about lobster salad, Spring Street style, but more about that later...
Monday, October 22, 2007
On Cassis (or, More Red)
Jolly good! A Kir Rouge...
Since the riff-raff (both dearly beloved) have been making Comments about the perceived size of my drinks, a scale is provided. This one is...tall, at any rate. Tonight's drink, and the reason I wax lyrical: a Kir Royale. A very nice (cheap as they go) champagne, new to me: Leclerc Briant, $23 at my Local, and the splash of Cassis. I really love Cassis. I do not believe in fruit drinks. Ugh. I'm old school. Except for that cocktail with cognac and summer fruits and champagne; and the fresh-squeezed watermelon juice and frigid Tequila....and summer peaches pureed with prosecco...hm. Oh well. Cassis is a close friend and on the odd occasions when the world is too much with me, finds its way into good but not spectacular champagne, to make a party.
Now why don't I feel this way about dropping acid**??? It's just not...pretty.
A fine mousse: the top.
Newspaperman to Canadian fur trapper recently emerged from the woods: Sir, Sir! are you a mousse top or a mousse bottom?
Sorry. It's the bubbles.
**Oh ye of shaken faith: I live vicariously through Bob in all matters drug-related...if it sounds as though I speak from experience, 'tis because I experience Bob's post-event analyses of his partydrug-addled weekends...all related, by him, through a Cheshire cat grin...