SMOKE AND TANSY

"FOREST FIRE NEAR NELSON BC Aug 29. TMTV/BCTV KOOTENAYS -Nelson BC. Lightning has caused a forest fire near Duhamel Creek above the 6-mile area between Nelson and Balfour. It is estimated to be 25 ha in size. There are 30 firefighters and 4 helicopters fighting the fire. No structures are in danger at this time."

The smoke is from the fire described above, cribbed from the BCTV News site, which is where I get most of the local news now. The tansy is the plant from which the smell is released when it's tamped down by the side of the road, as it was when we stopped yesterday to have a proper gawk at the fire burning above Duhamel Creek. The smell of smoke and tansy is pungent and almost beautiful, except there's this little suggestion of poison that lingers when you take it in.

Duhamel is the creek my friend and I used to cross when we went to visit each other "the back way". This route took us along old roads, over scary bridges, and through bush dense enought to get lost in. It was a heavenly place to grow up.

It's strange to live in a part of the world where news still happens largely by word-of-mouth because we're not important enough, in the scheme of things, to rate a mention on the Evening News. Yesterday we found ourselves at 6-Mile. This is a part of the world that is sacred to me. It's not surprising it should call me when it's threatened, however distantly.


A photo that includes a sign that signals 6 Mile Lakes Road it is on the cover of my chapbook



This week began with a quick trip to Kelowna to see the plastic surgeon who operated on Mom's face again last week. He pronounced her doing well, hopefully next pathology report will show a positive result, and off we went for dinner. Both of us had beef, Mom the meatloaf and I the steak.



And this week appears to be ending with saying goodbye to our dear friend and neighbor, Kim, who moved next door with her husband about two months after Ted and I got married and I started living here full time. Kim has ovarian cancer, a terrifyingly sneaky, nasty, lethal, painful, just-plain-ugly disease, the very thought of which makes me shiver and wonder. My mother's good friend Edna had it, for about six months. Kim found out about hers just before Christmas last year. I had forgotton what sad feels like, something I can be very grateful for given the state of the world today. Knowing we won't get to drop over for coffee like we did about two weeks ago and sit down and laugh with her. Two weeks. And now it's a matter of days. I went over and talked to the horses today. Danny, who is always very stand-offish with me unless I'm feeding him or causing him to be fed, did an eye contact thing that was simply soul stuff. Here's a picture of Kyran going for his first horse back ride, on Spike, back in May.




Here he is, feeding them carrots.






Wishing you the finest of journeys, my friend. You'll be remembered so fondly, by so many, I don't have to tell you, but I will anyway.

BRONWYN & GARETH'S LITTLE WEDDING BOOK (Poem: ALL THE UNPRETENTIOUS WORDS)

It's been an eventful week. High school reunion activities Thursday and Friday, then early Saturday it was off to Kelowna for B and G's wedding. Here they are, jumping over the broom (which, for Kootenay readers, came from the North Woven Broom Company in Crawford Bay). Some broom folklore, lifted directly from their website, which is here:

"Traditionally, brooms have been used to sweep away evil
and bad fortune. New brooms bring good luck.
Housewarming - A new broom brings good luck and harmony
to a new home.
Marriage - If a bride and groom hold hands and jump over a broom,
good luck and fortune will abound in their union. An old Welsh custom
calls for newlyweds to enter their new home by stepping over a broom
and luck will follow."








B & G asked me to read one of my poems at their reception. About a week ahead of time, I conceptualized and made the following little book. I was still changing lines between the second to last and last printing!






I want to memorize your face
The way it looks
the moment you tell me
how the morning glories
have pushed through the earth
in that corner of the garden
where we walk in the morning.





I want to capture it,
paint a picture,
hold it up for all to see
like a birthday balloon
on a crimson ribbon,
or a mirror I can step into.





It will be mine, your face,
not to imply ownership,
never that,
but head flung back
arms open wide
jump for joy mine





and I'm free to fly to the light
that illuminates your face,
your eyes.

I want to memorize your face
the way I would a poem. See
how all the unpretentious words





attract no attention,
breathe no sign of revolt,
until summoned, they appear
and every sense is filled with wonder
at the joy the words bring





as they turn into a poem...
and the poem is your face.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Tabitha deigned to wear the NiB logo on her somewhat portly belly.





while the Perogy Cat posed for a picture with a Newton and Ridley coaster that heralds their best bitter ale. The text says,

Bitter about not being asked
to be best man, the Perogy
Cat retires to the pub where
there may, or may not, be a
toast to the bride and groom.






And did I mention that Bronwyn included in her vows a few of the words I said to Ted when we got married? I was so honoured. Ted cried. Gareth may have said to Bronwyn a few of the words Ted said to me, come to that, but as he decided he'd just ad lib when we got married, no one, least of all Ted or me, is sure what he said!

SUMMER 2006, SO FAR-POETRY NEWS AT THE BOTTOM

Visitor # 100 surfed in today.

I've not been here much lately because I've:

A. been for the occasional bike ride




B. been at the beach














C. been to Kelowna with Mom. She had to have a cancer removed from her cheek. We thought "consultation with the plastic surgeon" meant we'd get to talk to him. After he'd been in the room a few minutes, Mom asked him if the procedure would be conducted under a general or a local anaesthetic. "Local," he said, turning around with a very large, very full syringe in his hand. I was out of there so fast!



In this picture, she's waiting to see the plastic surgeon.










And here's a picture of Mom with her compact, 3 hours post-op. She's seeing the oncologist. Guardedly good, I'd say, for a prognosis. (Okay, in fairness, she was NOT about to put on any powder; she just wanted to see if she looked as bad as she felt!)

PS Two weeks later, you can hardly tell anything was done!



D. enjoyed lots of company, often with barbecues and the occasional beer, or equivalent poison. It's summer, and it's the Kootenays!












For part of their honeymoon, my cousin Fred brought his new bride, Joanne, to one of his favourite places on the planet: the Kootenays. Everyone here loves Joanne, especially Fred. They're commuting between Nanaimo and Comox at the moment.



E. been helping out with the committee working on our 40th high school reunion (LV Rogers, Nelson, BC), coming up this weekend!























F. been making a guest book and another wee surprise book for Bronwyn & Gareth's wedding, also this weekend, but in Kelowna. They've asked me to read one of my poems at the reception, and I've put the poem into a wee book for them, but don't tell, it's supposed to be a surprise! I'll post more pictures of it after the event. This reading of one of my poems does help take the sting out of having to miss the Saturday dinner/dance and the Sunday morning pancake breakfast that the reunion offers. But I'll get to the wine and cheese on Friday night, plus a few of us are getting together for a—what else?—barbecue at a place two of the incoming rented on Lower Six Mile Road on Thursday.






Gareth is the most amazing cartoonist. Really. Check out his website. Hunt down the Perogy Cat. Go to the store, Legends Comics, 633 Johnson Street in Victoria. Read Magic Teeth Dailies. Pay attention.









And Bronwyn? Well, I've known her since 1983, when Jesse and I met her for the first time. Here's a picture of that auspicious occasion: Jesse, a few weeks shy of 2, regards Bronwyn who is, well, slightly older. Okay, about a year and a half older. She's my cousin Jim's daughter which makes us related somehow, but I can never remember how the first-cousin-once-removed vs second-cousin thing works. So I just call her my friend.






This is summer, so far, and it only became August today.




POETRY NEWS

Oh yeah! August. That reminds me, I'm doing the 3:15 Experiment (link at left, I haven't yet figured out how to insert into the body text) again: 1 down, 30 to go.

And I sent out poems to two different contests yesterday. I now have three modest manuscripts out there in the world of poets. I think it's because general submissions to lit mags don't normally have deadlines that I don't submit more. If there's no deadline, there's always time. If there's no deadline, I can make the piece better. But there is no way of knowing if, in fact, it IS any better, after you've tweaked it for the 19th time. Take that poem I'm reading for Bronwyn and Gareth, for example. Wrote it, oh, maybe about 10 years ago, give or take. Have given it a bit of attention in that time. But even as I was laying it out on the pictures, for the mini-book, I was changing things! There's a whole new line with "revolt" in it. What kind of a love poem is that now, I ask you? Back to my deadline fixation, I can't seem to trick myself into thinking there is one. I just ignore me.

Here endeth the poetry text, this is Purple Mountain Poetry, after all, I know, I know, how terribly original. But the first time I realized the mountains sometimes look purple, I wrote a poem about it. I was about 15.





G. Did I mention Dudley's been sick? Off his food. Temperature. Weight loss: .8 kg, which is about a pound and 3/4, not inconsiderable when you're only 4.8 kg to begin with. Unsuccessful attempts to bring up...something. I'm sayin' it's a big, big fur ball, but will anyone in officialdom agree? Not while there's bloodwork to be done. $200.47 later we don't know what was wrong, only that something was, and he appears to be better now. In this picture he's allowing himself to be used as scale for the wee book. He expects to be paid scale, too. At least, I expect he does.