Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Swy-a-lana Lagoon

Plush white figures grace
Cerulean skies
silhouetted by hungry gulls
on the qui vive

Asian fisherwoman
beneath fushia bonnet
casts her rod delicately
while fish scatter

The Godfather theme
its sombre strain
departs violin fingers
aged like Dom Perignon

Lucy paddles in
dangling salmon her lure
gaping nostrils eat air
wondering eyes examine

Dragon boats glide
guided by rhythmic cadence
reminiscent of Viking fleets
commencing battle

Child holds melted rainbow
while frolicking magic kingdoms
ignoring sand-filled shoes and
kisses from the sun

Old friends laugh
sprawled casually
across Emerald carpets

Eccentric drunk babbles
to his bored cat
as the Hoity-Toity averts

People gather
united by curiousity
as unsuspecting Dungeness
enjoy Last Supper.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

The Get Out Migration ~ April 23-May 8... is a walk for wild salmon, happening on Vancouver Island now - to bring awareness to the Canadian government that we need to get salmon farms out of our BC waters. Farmed salmon are destroying our salmon.

Wild Pacific salmon are "anadromous", meaning born in fresh water. They migrate to the ocean, then return home to spawn and die. They can travel thousands of kilometres in their lifetime and still find their way back to the place they were born. Many don't make it back.

There's a wild salmon fish hatchery (more than one obviously) on the island where you can go and see all these salmon pooling in the fall; they've found their way back to their home waters and are at the end of their life. There's a viewing room where you can look at the salmon floating around half-dead. They slice open the bellies of the female and bucket the eggs in order to keep the cycle going. Gory, but necessary! The whole life cycle of the salmon is fascinating.

The biggest issues with farmed salmon are sea lice, which attack the baby salmon as they head out to sea...killing them off before they even have a chance, and competition. These Atlantic farmed salmon are escaping into our BC waters and out-competing our fish for habitat and food.

We need to do something about it before we lose all our fish.

Farmed and Dangerous - Educate yourself

Get Out Migration Itinerary - Join in on the fun

Stop buying and selling industrial farm fish.

Fish Farms Get Out of our Oceans!

Monday, April 26, 2010

The Equivocal Woman

last night, fear.
dark, dull pulse
barely beating

i am a coward

who cannot open her eyes
who cannot see
who cannot face
who cannot overcome

my heart
is building
a stone wall
to keep you

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

The Eggs Are A-Cookin'

A man by the name of Doug Carrick mounted a camera at the top of a Douglas fir on Hornby Island, looking down upon an eagle's nest. Since then, he's broadcasted the daily lives of two Eagles... including three successful hatching of little Eaglets. Totally cool! Apparently, the Eagles did notice and were caught candidly scrutinizing the camera (picture © Ma & Pa Eagle are right now incubating two eggs and they are expected to hatch this weekend!

Being the animal-lovin' nut that I am, I must say I find this completely intriguing:

The Hornby Island Eagle's Webcam

“With the camera, we could see every detail of their behaviour. I knew right away that this was really something remarkable. There were a lot of things I saw for the first time, especially the relationship between the two eagles. The female is the boss of the nest with the male rather timorous when near her. She is the larger of the two, tougher and more aggressive. He would bring a branch to the nest and she would grab it from him and put it in place. But he wanted a say in it also and would tug on the other end of the branch. Such tug-of-war contests would happen often and sometimes for as long as ten minutes. It wasn’t all marital harmony.” ~ Doug Carrick

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Saturday, April 10, 2010

No Pants, No Panties, Nowhere To Hide!

I had a feeling it was going to happen, and damn it, I was right!

It was up to the Nanaimo lakes today for some fresh mountain air... way out in the wilderness where bears and cougars roam free. Let me just say for the record: I absolutely love it out for the fact that there is nowhere for this city girl to "go" besides the bush. Peeing in the bush is NOT MY FORTE!

I can handle pretty much anything else...I'll dust the ash & dirt off my smokie and take a bite out of it after it's fallen on the ground beside the campfire. I'll sleep on a hard rocky ground and wake up shivering in a tent after a night of rain, or worse: scorching in the morning sun. I'll run down a never-ending trail to the outhouse in the middle of the night alone with my flashlight-doubling-as-a-bludgeon, imagining wild predator eyes staring out from the trees and evil goblins lurking. I'd even go a few days without a hot shower & soapy suds, if I had to. But peeing in the bush? This just something that I really, really don't like to do and won't do unless absolutely necessary. For good reason too, I mean today was a perfect example.

I spent a good ten minutes wandering through trees, trying to stake out the "perfect" spot. One with coverage. Good coverage from all angles. Of course, I eventually realized I was just procrastinating, putting off what I didn't actually want to do. I finally gave up and picked a "will-do" spot. There was a road above me, and water below down the hilly bank. I remembered the truck I had seen across the lake earlier and had a fleeting vision of it driving by while I was doing my deed. But I thought, nah... this will just take a second, it'll be done and over with by the time they get in their truck to go in any direction, let alone the chances of it coming in my direction.

Because I am the way I am, I had decided it's probably best to just take my pants right off, along with the panties so there is NO CHANCE of things going awry. I mean, I've had success in the past, but I've also had a few failures and that just ain't pretty.

So I bare all and grin it and am squatting there in the bush, exposed to any creature with eyes wandering the foliage, the chilly breeze investigating my bare skin..... when all of a sudden, out of the corner of my left eye I see movement. White. Truck. OH MY GOD it's the truck from across the lake! They are nearly on top of me... a few more feet and they'll have one hell of a show.

I grab frantically for my pants and miss my panties and am already stumbling trying to get my leg in with my shoes on, trying to keep my balance as I'm reaching for my fallen panties while trying to get my other leg in, then stuffing them in what I think is the pocket but really it's the knee and the truck is right there in front of me, so I dive for it, down the hill with my ass hanging out, tripping on fabric and sticks, trying to launch myself behind whatever kind of cover I can find, but there isn't any and I am rolling down the hill at this point on my knees, my hip, my elbow.

I finally found a stump to stick my half-naked self behind and flattened myself on the ground panting as the tail end of the truck disappeared from my sight. I cursed at the trees between fits of laughter and finally figured out how to put everything back on again.

I don't know if I wiped. I don't even remember peeing. But all I can say is it'll be a long time before I take my panties off.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Anarchy on the West Coast

What is up with this rainstorm?
Why did I go out?
Why did I come home?

The power was out all morning. Pretty much across town, all day. I don't like peeing in the dark. My cat went insane. I've never seen the wind blow so hard in all of my twenty nine years. It blew me across the street and into a pile of water. The ocean is alive with angry waves.

The traffic is nuts. I took the inner route to avoid the highway winds, but everyone else had the same idea. People can't drive worth shit. Everyone in town went shopping. Chapters was a zoo. Thank GOD for Starbucks in every store, not so much the lineups, but I bought a book.

Had to feel my way to the checkout in the grocery market in pitch black while everybody ran around screaming bloody murder, stuffing their pockets and knocking aisles down (ok that part didn't actually happen, but it would be fitting) I've never been in a grocery store without the glaring lights and hum of refrigeration.

I couldn't see through the windshield and hydroplaned all the way home to find the boat shed whatchamacallit had done a sommersault into the neighbour's house, was flipped right over, ripped to shreds, banging against their siding...the garbage can halfway down the street along with everything that was under the shed. All I could say was HOLY. SHIT. as I sat there in the truck stunned. It was a beautiful sight of pure destruction by the queen bee herself: Mother Bloody Nature. I called some strong men to please get the hell over here before that damn shed chisels a hole in that damn blue house and as I write they are out there in the pouring rain dismantling the flimsy giant.

My cat is under the bed licking himself dry and I, with my wet feet, will be changing my socks, making some tea, curling up under a blanket and reading my shiny new book. This rain and wind better let up or I'm not coming out.