Life's a Stitch

The covid stay-at-home routine is just that – routine. Same old same old. I try to shake it up a bit by walking a different route every morning and carefully planning the occasional errand outing. But today, out of the blue, the US Air Force injected some excitement into this sleepy little Canadian hillside beach town.

White Rock is quiet except for the noise of occasional motorcycles and modified showy cars that cruise Marine Drive on weekends. People who visit and sit on our deck comment on the silence. The houses are built against the hill, facing the water, oriented so that the sound of daily living is directed in one direction. You are generally facing the quiet side of the block below. The predominant sounds from the Semiahmoo and Boundary Bay areas are seagulls, Canada geese and eagles, both bald and golden. Other sky borne items include kites, motorized hang gliders, small planes and the occasional RCMP helicopter. Once a year or so, the Snowbirds do a flyover. Until this morning. 

We were enjoying our morning coffee when I hear Chuck say "Would you look at this." From between the houses immediately below I see and hear a HUGE military plane accelerating and flying extremely low. When presented with something totally out of context, your mind roams allover the map:

• an imminent plane crash?
• what's going on current eventwise that might precipitate an attack? Certainly this is overkill for this morning's headline regarding Canada's "flooding" the US market with aluminum. Isn't it sad we think this way? 
• a show-off pilot saluting a Canadian romantic interest?

This military behemoth, we're talking 174 feet long (53 meters) with a wingspan of 169 feet, 10 inches (51.75 meters), circles around and comes in for another pass, although slightly further away. The engines, the same as are on a Boeing 757, are accelerating hard from an altitude of 200 feet, the whistling sound reminiscent of a terrorist attack, or last ditch effort prior to crashing. At one point it looks as though it was coming right at us. I suggest we go to the basement. Nah, says C. Someone is putting on a show. If that's the case, somebody's in trouble, as I doubt you can cross international boundaries for that purpose. All that happened in a fleeting moment, then it took a sudden turn and hightailed it directly south. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Turns out it was an Air Force Globemaster conducting a border interception exercise. They took a sudden detour over White Rock due to traffic at their planned landing site. That would be the Canada – US border. What are they planning for? Scary. This was the second pass. The first was much closer.

The rest of the story, as Paul Harvey used to say:

Yes, there was a military training event happening, but no, the plane wasn't diverted from the planned airport. It was a specially arranged, with permission, fly-by over the White Rock Pier – so Daddy (the pilot), separated from his family because of the Covid border closure, could "wave" to his four-year-old son. You were right, dear. Sort of. It was a preschooler instead of a romantic interest. 

On a calmer note – knitting progress. Noro Silk Garden Lite Mitred Square Blanket, a third done.

 

That's how long we've been home from Bali and adapted our lives to the new vocabulary: we’re maintaining our bubble, physical distancing, masking up, washing, sanitizing, and all the rest. How well it's working is evidenced, not only by the fact that we appear to remain covid-free, but we are free of any traces of common cold and the kinds of GI problems that are caused by surface bacteria. The world may be turning into a healthier place as the result of this. 

In that 120 days we've had five birthdays. B and his GF, were the first at a time when we thought that travel might be restricted for weeks and anticipated seeing them soon. They're still in Bali with a huge time difference, so FaceTime was what we managed for now.

C's was a big number that required a family Zoom party where we played online Jackbox.

 

M's, exactly two months later, was a four person celebration.

E wasn't here for her's but I gave her a painting of her 18ish-year-old cat, Chompers. I took the photo last year at Easter. He was basking in a warm ray of light, giving me his look, and I told him I'm gong to paint you. And here he is, another year older and still with us, so to speak.

 

In addition to the gulls, of course, which C has named Poopy, Crappy and Splat, the streaky evidence of which can be seen on the roof. I had chosen more innocuous names, but agreed to go with his, as long as Crappy's original one was changed. I'll leave that to your imagination.

That's Splat, discovering his little gull voice.

I've succeeded in my goal of walking every street on the Semiahmoo Peninsula, 5K at a time. These daily walks close to home have revealed a variety of local beasts. I've seen deer, turtles, families of raccoons, bunnies, squirrels, and many kinds of birds – bald and golden eagles to crimson breasted house finches.

One of my favourite spots is Crescent Beach prior to 8:00a.m. It's quiet, fresh, and without the throngs that grow as the day develops, the critters make an appearance.

The early bird gets the fish. Herons by the dozens hang out at their favourite hunting waters. 

Cotton tails have plenty to eat in the grassy part of the park. 

Last week, when M and KC are here we even got in some time crabbing. We staked out a corner on the White Rock pier and were able to maintain a healthy distance from others. We left Crescent Beach pier one afternoon, though, when the crowds moved in, unmasked or with no regard to the concept of two metres. We caught two keepers as you can only take males of a certain size, but it provided a decent crabbatizer for dinner.

On the topic of fauna, I realized I never posted a photo of my last pet portrait, Prince the cat, posing regally on the back of the couch.

 

 

 

The Laura Nyro version of Up On The Roof was my favourite song in the early 1970's. It represented an island of calm in a time of turmoil in my teenage life.

Currently there's a lot going on up on the roof of the condo building across the street. We've been watching a family of gulls, from the time they started building their nest to the now weeks-old hatchlings exercising their wings in preparation for their first flight to come at around eight weeks of age. 

They are a messy noisy pain, but living near the ocean and whining about seagulls is like moving into a house near the airport and complaining about the sound of jet engines. Their lifespan is 20 years, so we might as well accept them as part of the landscape.

It started with three chicks, but one day there was a mess of feathers on the roof and we were down by one. It was probably attacked by a crow – sadly, crows and gulls steal from each other's nests. That, or taken as dinner by an eagle or raccoon. Gulls can lay eggs sequentially, so a while later, the remaining two were joined by a smaller sibling. They are quite cute all fuzzy and spotted and are fun to watch.

Their condo association had fake owls installed on the roof to deter the gulls from landing, but it obviously didn't work.

We've had a good view of them while working on our upper floor back deck. C had a vision of deck tiles and fake grass, transforming the vinyl coated deck into an inviting outdoor room. It ended up working well thanks to Craig's List, which he monitored diligently for the materials. 

It's amazing how much you can get done around the house when you have the time and nowhere to go. One major project was located literally around the house. We live on a small hillside lot above the beach. In keeping with our retirement plan, there is no lawn. We have a tiny front garden and two narrow strips of growing area in back of the house.

That wee little front garden yielded 12 giant bags of yard waste! C then pickaxed the roots out and sifted the dirt to remove a ton of rocks. His theory was there was an original rock garden that was covered over with dirt for a different look. Ready for planting we took two trips to nearby nurseries and exhausted our $200 of grocery store points in their garden centre.

I have a black thumb, but a good sense of design. Major kudos to C for his brawn, which produced this:

We especially like the two new trees, a weeping pussy willow and a Coral Japanese Maple, its red bark showing off in the winter.

 

That’s what my 4 yr old grandson calls it. And he’s also very good at using his “hamitizer.” Here in BC we seriously followed our orders from the medical health officer. We strictly maintained our bubble of two, saving ourselves for the phase two allowable contact with six people, in anticipation of the visit from daughter E and family.

We were all supposed to be camping in Washington and Oregon, but the border remains closed, and won’t open until the numbers in the US decrease. They made the decision to proceed with a shorter visit. There was double incentive as both sets of grandparents are located within a five minute drive.

It’s a little heartbreaking to see pediatric sized masks. A pandemic is something you might want to tell your grandkids about as a distant event, not something you want them to live through. I questioned both of them about their current lives in the time of Covid, and it seems they’re adapting well.

We’ve had lots of fun despite the rain, but for tonight, I’ll cut it short as I’m typing one handed due to an altercation with the hot metal part of the handle of my pizza peel. The beginning was fun, though, making pizza together on the BBQ.

I was fortunate to be in the company of their parents, a safety manager and a nurse.

And may wonders never cease, as the initial intent of this blog was about knitting. The by-rist has given me the gift of time and the opportunity to open containers of yarn, untouched since our move several years ago. While still in the working world aka earning a paycheque, I did an excellent job of bolstering the yarn stash knowing finances would be tighter in retirement. I was embarrassed to find thirty skeins of Noro silk blend yarn and immediately put twenty into service. The mitred square afghan may have to be put aside for a few days considering the current circumstances, but it’s one that won’t be ignored for long.

Do you know the first verse to Over the Rainbow? The song doesn't start with the word "Somewhere" as generally heard in popular versions. Here are the lyrics:

“When all the world is a hopeless jumble
And the raindrops tumble all around
Heaven opens a magic lane

When all the clouds darken up the skyway
There's a rainbow highway to be found
Leading from your windowpane

To a place behind the sun
Just a step beyond the rain…”

The world certainly seems a hopeless jumble right now, and just in time we looked out our window to see this, the symbol of hope, gratitude, diversity and fresh beginnings. Fingers crossed.

 

i’m happy to report that the real estate closing was accomplished on June 1, two weeks early. Thanks to our determined niece, the place was sorted and packed up in two days. It was so frustrating not being there, but probably a good thing because I would have kept far more stuff. If there were any items she wasn’t sure of, she’d send a photo of a group of things. I’d circle what I wanted, x’d out what I didn’t and emailed the photo back. Every so often I get a flash of something I might have kept, but it’s too late now, and best not to be accumulating more stuff.

The most difficult part was the inability to say goodbye to a place our family loved for 29 years almost to the day. When we leave a house I have a farewell ritual that I was unable to accomplish, it feels undone. In the scheme of things, though, this was minor compared to the covid cancellations that others have experienced.

There is a tree-lined road at the entrance to the community. It was like a filter for life. When we drove through, we’d leave our troubles at the beginning, enjoy our time at our place and pick them up on our way home. It would have been hard to drive through those for the last time. Officially, anyway. We’re lucky to still have friends there who we can visit when the border opens. 

While isolated, life continues busily around us. We didn't think it possible, but we managed to sell our beloved family vacation home of 29 years.

What a whirlwind. We received a solid offer subject to inspection. I think this was the first inspection of any of the seven units in the building, age 43, at least that I was aware of. I was afraid of what we might learn despite the fact that recently all the siding was torn off and replaced, sheathing and insulation replaced and all rot and damage repaired. You never know. Well I guess we did know that the attic insulation, built to the specifications of the time, was insufficient. I ask myself why we never fixed that. Who knows?

The prospective buyers indicated that they would secure estimates and renegotiate their offer. At the same time we received a backup offer for the same price! There's nothing like a second offer to get things going. The original party immediately removed their subjects, and as we say in Canada, Bob's your uncle. 

So there's this little detail between us and our place in Washington, called an international border. A border which is closed solid unless you are an essential worker. We thought we'd have a chance as real estate was deemed essential and we were part of a deal that would benefit an American as well as the American economy.

Our buyers, realizing we were in a pickle, offered to buy our furniture. Sold. However, they wanted the closets and kitchen cleared out. We gave it our best shot and arrived at the crossing armed with real estate papers and a long string of printed emails. Nope. Not a chance. They listed for us all the people to whom they had denied entry. It covered the lifespan from births to deathbed visits and of course real estate deals fall solidly between the two. We were informed by the border supervisor that "the reason it's closed is because you (Canada) wants it that way and we (America) want it open." Rather than get into a debate about public health, we left.

What to do, what to do. The buyers indicated they would close as soon as we could retrieve our belongings. Enter Chuck's niece, who despite the fact that she's working during these troubled times, will make room to help us out. Phew. I ordered packing supplies online for her to pick up, and begged neighbours to let us store our boxes until the border reopens. The anticipated date is June 21, but Canada has made it clear that the border won't open until the Covid numbers in the US improve. 

I am always on pins and needles in that time of real estate limbo, between acceptance of an offer and closing, where the buyer can pull out for any reason and only forfeit their deposit. I will be glad when it’s final and the money is in the bank. So, as we used to say in all-girls Catholic high school, "Keep your fingers crossed and say three Hail Mary's." We are hoping to close in the coming week. 

My long early morning walks give me balance and many flowers, fodder for future paintings.

This is my favourite so far.  C emerged from his downstairs sawdusty lair with this – an accent river table for the living room made out of mahogany from built in shelves in our previous house and cherry wood from our place in Washington state.

 

I've been creating in the kitchen: chorizo and lentil soup, cornbread and Portuguese egg tarts, like creme brûlée in puff pastry.

The painting continues, this time a very thick haired kitty. Thick as in a lot of layers of paint. A lot. Stay tuned. 

Out in front of our house the last of the tulips were blooming. This one was poking through the maidenhair fern and will make a great painting, especially with that water droplet clinging to the right side.