Saturday Photo: Salt Marsh: the Answer to Our Problems?

 It looks like I'll be getting a contract for Against the Seas: Saving Civilizatins from Rising Oceans rather soon, so I thought I'd share another photo from our trip to the Bas St-Laurent.  This is the "sea" side of the batture at St. Alexandre de Kamouraska: at high tide it is flooded with salt water from the St. Lawrence estuary.

Although storm surges can cause damage along this stretch, the gradual slope of the flats and teh plentiful vegetation mean that much of the waves' energy is harmlessly expended.

Turning other seaside landscapes into tide flats may well be a key technique in cutting down damage caused be rising sea levels.

Saturday Photo: School Starts, Summer Was Too Hot and Dry

This is not this year's batch of kids going to school: you can see that there's not a mask in the lot.  But school started in Montreal this week, and will start in the rest of the province next week.  

Summer was unusually hot and sunny here--not as dry or as hot as other places, but nevertheless the weather is enough to worry about.

At the moment though it is coolish and I have decided that sometimes the better path is live for the moment...
 

Saturday Photo: The Batture at Saint-André de Kamouraska

Note: this was such a good trip I'm posting it twice!

 

 Down in the Bas St-Laurent recently to see how people there cope with rising sea levels.  This is the walkway on the top of a dike built to protect some very fertile fields--in other words, an aboiteau.

Had a great walk, and was much impressed by the way it was built.  Much to think about here.

Saturday Photo: Batture or a Walk on the Tamed Side

Spent a great few days in the Lower St. Laurent, including walks on the batture,  the dikes constructed to keep back the tides and make the Kamouraska lowlands ready for planting.

It was very hot, but that meant there were few people, and we had this great landscape mostly to ourselves.  It is indeed a tamed landscaped, but very thought-provoking as the techniques used here might be used elsewhere against the rising seas the climate change will bring us.

Saturday Photo: Middens on Vancouver Island

The New Yorker had an interesting read this week about  ways to save us from rising sea levels.  The basic idea is the encouragement of artificial reefs that would be home to many sea creatures and also take the brunt of pounding waves.  Oysters will grow on them, so it's said, and I was reminded of the middens we saw on Vancouver Islands a few years ago.  The bounty from the sea can be considerable.  We just have to be better stewards.

Saturday Photo: To Bee or Not to Bee...

The bees are out, thank goodness.  In this time of so many things not going right, it's a pleasure to see them at work in the 'hood.

It helps that there are several bee hives hidden around, so in addition to the native bees we have some honey bees.  It also helps that gardens tend to be of two types.  One has no pesticides because the owners don't care for their yards.  The other has none either, because the owners more or less have bought into organic gardening. 

 

Saturday Photo: In Memory of Everyone Who Died before Their Time

My sister Laurie died suddenly in July 2002.  She was beautiful, as well as being smart and exceedingly concerned about justice.  Here is the day Lee and I got married: a good memory.

In this period of far too many premature deaths, I offer my condolences to those who loved, and who now continue living.  The hole in the heart never fills...

Saturday Photo: The Rapids Where the Going Gets Tough, If Not Impossible

 Spent a lovely few hours last Sunday at the Parc des rapides on the St. Lawrence.  These rapids and the St. Mary's rapid to the east effectively blocked sailing ships from going up the great river.  The first canal around the rapids was built in the late 18th century, and since the 1950s all ships have avoided them by using the St. Lawrence Seaway.

Living in the middle of the island of Montreal, it's easy to forget just how powerful the river is.  Standing next to the rapids and watching the terns fish in them was a good reminder of that.  There are forces bigger than us, even if we try to get around them.

Saturday Photo: Wayward Grass....

 The view at the Technoparc last Sunday: grasses and clouds and birds.  There was a time that we did a lo of bird-watching, but kids and dogs got in the way.  Now that we have neither in the house, we've gone back to a little low key bird-watching, which has led to the discovery of a number of interesting places that we wouldn't have visited otherwise.

The Technoparc is a a parcel of land that some would like to develop but which so far has lain fallow.  It's tucked right up next to Trudeau airport, which would at first glance seem to be not the best place for a bird santuary.  What's more, there must have been times in the not to distant past when parts of the ponds were partially drained for some kind of project.  But at the moment, the 215 hectares are a refuge for a wealth of bird life.  Some animals also call it home: we saw a lot of rabbits last week, so many that I wonder if the ecosystem couldn't use a fox or two.

The grass and reeds are as tall as I am right now, and the mosquitos are as big as my fist--no, that's an exaggeration included only to warn the wary. Great space to spend a few hours on a Sunday morning.

Saturday Unphoto: From Bloomberg Green on Wild Fire

 

By Linda Poon The worst day for human-caused fires in the U.S. is July 4. That’s a particular problem this year, as a historic heat wave and record drought have exacerbated the risk of wildfires. That’s why more than 150 fire scientists signed a letter this week urging people in the West to skip fireworks this Independence Day, just as the U.S. enters peak wildfire season. Blazes are already raging in several states, with some spreading through tens of thousands of acres in California, Colorado and Arizona.  In response, some cities and counties in California, Oregon, Arizona and Utah have canceled public displays, and imposed restrictions or outright bans on the use of personal fireworks. But it won’t be easy to tamp down that bombastic American tradition. Some places like Aspen, Colorado, are trying out alternative flashy displays. At the popular “Old Fashioned Fourth of July'' festival, the Aspen Chamber Resort Association is hoping to dazzle attendees with a laser show instead of traditional fireworks. In 2018, the association tried a choreographed drone display. “You have to evolve,” a spokesperson told Bloomberg CityLab that year — but smoke from a wildfire that broke out just a day before the holiday canceled that show, too.  Other places are cracking down on personal use, which can be especially risky and became a more popular hobby during the pandemic. In the San Francisco Bay Area, sheriffs confiscated 15,000 pounds of illegal fireworks, along with $1 million in cash, from two residents who were also operating illegal sales out of a warehouse in Oakland. In a dramatic twist of events in Los Angeles Wednesday night, police who were seizing homemade fireworks caused an accidental explosion as they were attempting to safely detonate the explosives. Seventeen people were injured, including police, in the blast that destroyed the specialized bomb truck containing the fireworks.  L.A. is also using incentives to dissuade people from setting off their own fireworks. The police department launched a buyback program on Wednesday, receiving some 500 pounds of fireworks in exchange for gift cards. And police are sending cease-and-desist letters to online marketplaces like Craigslist that were hosting illegal sales. Fires are not the only environmental concern. Cities in China have banned fireworks before to prevent spikes in air pollution. In the U.S., fireworks release 42% more pollutants into the air than on a normal day, according to a 2020 study. But as the effects of climate change worsen, wildfires loom large as an urgent reason to rethink the explosive pastime. “We're getting to the point where we need to think seriously about restricting the use of fireworks,” says Jennifer Balch, a fire ecologist at the University of Colorado, Boulder. “Frankly, we're asking too much of our firefighters who are probably hunkered down waiting to see where the wildfires are going to start.” Between 1992 and 2015, humans started 7,000 wildfires on July 4, according to Balch. Of all the fires reported that day from 2014 to 2018, more than half were sparked by fireworks, according to a separate analysis from the National Fire Prevention Association. Experts warn that extreme hot and dry conditions enable sparks and falling embers to more easily ignite trees, shrubs and other vegetation. The slightest breeze can carry that fire far and wide. In 2017, a teen sparked the massive Eagle Creek Fire by throwing two fireworks into the Columbia River Gorge in Oregon. It raged for three months, blowing some into Portland and burning through nearly 50,000 acres of land. And in 2020, a smoke-generating “pyrotechnic device” set off during a baby gender reveal party ignited the El Dorado fire, which tore through more than 22,000 acres of San Bernardino County, California. The percent of wildfires caused by humans has inched up over the last few years. “That's something that's also very much related to our development patterns and our settlement, in that we are building more and more homes into flammable landscapes," Balch says.  Despite the warnings, the show must go on for some Americans — with some calling the city bans “anti-American” and at least one state’s legislative leaders refraining from any statewide action. South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem, a Republican, has been pushing the Biden administration to allow fireworks at Mount Rushmore, after the National Parks Service denied the state’s request in March. Fireworks there have been halted since 2009 due to safety concerns, including fire hazards. They resumed for the first time last year under Donald Trump’s presidency.  But with large swaths of America already on fire, and 2021 setting the perfect conditions for yet another intense wildfire season, perhaps the most patriotic thing for those in the American West to do is lay off the pyrotechnics.

Saturday Photo: Gate to Where?

Lots of changes in the world.  Sad news about the past coming out.  Pandemic easing here, but raging elsewhere.  All of this, plus drought and heat waves  come to mind as I wander my neighbourhood.  This is part of the lovely installation off Van Horne boulevard where sculptor Glen LeMesurier displays some of his works made from the castoffs of industrialization.

The gate in the photo is closed, and who knows what lies on the other side?  Not I.  Like everyone else, I go forward, hoping for the best.

Saturday Photo: Gypsy Moths....

 This week I went for a walk in one of my favourite places, the Mount Royal Cemetery.  This time of year it usually is full of flowers and fruit like crabapples setting on.  But, to my great dismay, great swaths of the trees were completely denuded of leaves.

The culprit is the Gypsy Moth caterpillar.  We saw them all over the pavement, and jogging friends have said they've been covered with them after running through stretches where the beasts are munching away.  

Dreadful things, but, I'm told, not quite the disaster that they appear to be.  Most of the trees will survive, many will leaf out again, and this kind of infestation cyclical.  Not quite the 17 year cycle of the cicada, but nevertheless something that comes around every 5 to 10 years.

The fact that we're in a very dry spell won't help the trees' recovery.  Rain last night was encouraging, but the jury is still out.  So is my desire to go walking in the cemetery--just too disturbing to see, perhaps.

Saturday Photo: Mangroves, the Key to Sea Rise Control?

 Firsts installment of the photos some friends in Jakarta took for me, as I try to research what's happening there for my new project, Against the Seas: Saving Civilizations from Risking Oceans. Mangroves have and could continue to save many shorelines from erosion.  Just one of the things I'm learning about.

Photo by Alya Fauzy

Saturday Photo: Adventure in the Middle of the City

Last weekend we spent a glorious Saturday in Parc Agrignon with some young friends.  It's a very large park by urban standards, and has a Métro station at its edge.  When we arrived in late morning people were arriving with picnic baskets and barbecues, ready to enjoy the first weekend when gatherings were allowed outside in Montreal.  

We had a great time, and our friends, who had to check out everything, particularly liked the wilder side of the lake.  It had woods and places where you could get close to the water, plus grass and weeds to pretend to get lost in.  Their game was some adventure drama that they concocted, vaguely inspired by Star Wars.  A down-to-earth pleasure for all...

Saturday Photo: What to Read...

 We've just set the list for the 2021-22 season of the Atwater Book Club.  Here it is, if you want t get a head start!

2021
September 1
Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro (Nobel Prize for literature 2017)
Klara and the Sun, tells the story of Klara, an Artificial Friend with outstanding observational qualities, who, from her place in the store, watches carefully the behavior of those who come in to browse, and of those who pass on the street outside. She remains hopeful that a customer will soon choose her. The book offers a look at our changing world through the eyes of an unforgettable narrator, and one that explores the fundamental question: What does it mean to love?


October 13
Who DoYou Think You Are? Alice Munro (Nobel Prize for literature 2013)
Rose and her stepmother Flo live in Hanratty -- across the bridge from the "good" part of town. Rose, alternately fascinated and appalled by the rude energy of the people around her, grows up nursing her hope of outgrowing her humble beginnings and plotting to escape to university.
Rose makes her escape and thinks herself free. But Hanratty's question -- Who do you think you are? -- rings in Rose's ears during her days in Vancouver, mocks her attempts to make her marriage successful, and haunts her new career back East as an actress and interviewer.


November 10
The Hungry Tide by Amitav Ghosh
Off the easternmost corner of India, in the Bay of Bengal, lies the immense labyrinth of tiny islands known as the Sundarbans, where settlers live in fear of drowning tides and man-eating tigers. Piya Roy, a young American marine biologist of Indian descent, arrives in this lush, treacherous landscape in search of a rare species of river dolphin and enlists the aid of a local fisherman and a translator. Together the three of them launch into the elaborate backwaters, drawn unawares into the powerful political undercurrents of this isolated corner of the world that exact a personal toll as fierce as the tides.



December
March by Geraldine Brooks
From Louisa May Alcott's beloved classic Little Women, Geraldine Brooks has animated the character of the absent father, March. Brooks follows March as he leaves behind his family to aid the Union cause in the Civil War. His experiences will utterly change his marriage and challenge his most ardently held beliefs. Pulitzer Prize 2006


2022
February 9
The Beekeeper of Aleppo by Christy Lefteri
Nuri is a beekeeper; his wife, Afra, an artist. They live a simple life, rich in family and friends, in the beautiful Syrian city of Aleppo--until the unthinkable happens. When all they care for is destroyed by war, they are forced to escape. But what Afra has seen is so terrible she has gone blind, and so they must embark on a perilous journey through Turkey and Greece towards an uncertain future in Britain. On the way, Nuri is sustained by the knowledge that waiting for them is Mustafa, his cousin and business partner, who has started an apiary and is teaching fellow refugees in Yorkshire to keep bees.





March 9
The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Shafak
As an Armenian American living in San Francisco, Armanoush feels like part of her identity is missing and that she must make a journey back to the past, to Turkey, in order to start living her life. Asya is a nineteen-year-old woman living in an extended all-female household in Istanbul who loves Jonny Cash and the French existentialists. The Bastard of Istanbul tells the story of their two families--and a secret connection linking them to a violent event in the history of their homeland.


April 13
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
This story within a story follows Charlie Marlow, whose job was to transport ivory downriver, and who develops an interest in i an ivory procurement agent, Kurtz, who is employed by the government. Preceded by his reputation as a brilliant emissary of progress, Kurtz has now established himself as a god among the natives in “one of the darkest places on earth.” Marlow suspects something else of Kurtz: he has gone mad.

A reflection on corruptive European colonialism and a journey into the nightmare psyche of one of the corrupted, Heart of Darkness is considered one of the most influential works ever written.

May 11
Indians on Vacation by Thomas King
Inspired by a handful of old postcards sent by Uncle Leroy nearly a hundred years earlier, Bird and Mimi attempt to trace Mimi’s long-lost uncle and the family medicine bundle he took with him to Europe. By turns witty, sly and poignant, this is the unforgettable tale of one couple’s holiday trip to Europe, where their wanderings through its famous capitals reveal a complicated history, both personal and political.


June 8
Emancipation Day by Wayne Grady
With his curly black hair and his wicked grin, everyone swoons and thinks of Frank Sinatra when Navy musician Jackson Lewis takes the stage. It's World War II, and while stationed in St. John's, Newfoundland, Jack meets the well-heeled, romantic Vivian Clift, a local girl who has never stepped off the Rock and is desperate to see the world. They marry against Vivian's family's wishes--hard to say what it is, but there's something about Jack that they just don't like--and as the war draws to a close, the new couple travels to Windsor to meet Jack's family...

 

 

 

 

The painting, BTW, is Lübecker Waisenhaus by Gotthardt Kuehl

Saturday Photo: The Animals of My Neighborhood...and Jokes

When this Covid business started and I was effectively cut off from our grandchildlren, I looked around for ways to keep in contact with them.  Sending letters was a partial solution even though we live in the same city.

 Last spring I wrote a series of stories about our extended family, which included tales of the Spanish Flu epidemic a hundred years ago.  Then, having covered the bases there, I looked around for more things to send in the mail.  These include a series of photos of the strange animals around our neighborhood, like this urban wolf that howls not far from the Outremont Métro station.

But, the kids tell me, nothing beats jokes, so I've been looking for suitable ones in both English and French.

Here's favourite of the youngest (4 1/2: Two mothers are talking  while their children play in the sandbox. 

"My baby has been walking for three months now," says one.

"You better go looking for him," says the other.  "He's probably a gone a long way in that time."

Well, I guess we have a new category to join the "Dad joke" one: it's the Kid joke.
 

Saturday Photo: May Afternoon at Giverny

 

 

 

 

Twice in May we visited Monet's garden at Giverny, north of Paris.  It was a lovely experience each time, with the flowers in full bloom and the weather wonderful.  The second time we walked back to the train station at Vernon along country roads that were equally splendid.

 How nice it would be visit again.  Not this year for sure. 

Saturday Photo: Making Book Lists for Next Year--and Maybe Summer Reading

I love this painting called Couch on the Porch, Cos Cob, by Childe Hassam.  Painted in 1914, it captures the feeling of summery days, pre-airconditioning.

 Would love to have your ideas for summer reading, or for book groups next winter.
 

Saturday Photo: More Whimsy

 

Last summer some kids near Parc Molson spent some happy time making a little scene in front of a tree in the strip of greenery between the sidewalk and the street.  You'll see what it looked like below. Then came winter and snow and all that and I hadn't thought about the whimiscal setting until this week.  That's when I was delight to see that they had recreated the scene, only this time with a bear coming out the door!  Bravo, kids!

s

 

Saturday Photo: Am I Blue? No, How Could You Be with This Kind of Display

 Garden escapes in the woods last Sunday!  Just gorgeous.

And there there's this couple:

Saturday Photo: Ahead of Time, But the Flowers Are Up

 The bees are buzzing around the scylla and other early plants in the front yard, about two weeks earlier than usual.

People are enjoying the weather (even though we're about to go back to an 8 p.m. curfew in Montreal tomorrow night) but it's rather scarey.  Sucha warm, dry, early spring is very unusual--but it's entirely possible that will become the norm. 

Climate change, of course, to add to our pandemic woes!  The temptation, which should be resisted is to enjoy what we can get when the gettings good.  Not a wise choice, I suppose.  This afternoon it will be back to work on a project that possibly may help show our way to a better future.

Saturday Photo: (Very) Urban Agriculture

 This year's crop from the ornamental orange tree. Have had up to 23 in the past, and this year it took months for these to ripen (they'd set on during the summer.) 

But I'm pleased to see them and will use them to cook a duck recipe for Easter supper. Sadly, it will be for the old guy and me only.  We do hope to take a walk in a park with the kids and grandkids though, which is better than last year when we weren't going anywhere in that first lockdown.

Saturday Photo: Chartres, Light at the End of the Tunnel

 This is about the time of year when we might start talking about what to do and where to go this summer.  Probably won't be doing that this year, again.  Which means that I am turning toward the past to satisfy my itchy feet.

This is one of  many photos I've taken on one of our several trips to the cathedral at Chartres.  It's just an hour by local train outside of Paris, through suburbs and farm land.  Lee loves Gothic architecture and Chartres is his favourite example, so no trip to France is complete without a day at Chartres.  

But given the current situation the photo seems particularly relevant.  We have been going through dark times, and perhaps there is a light at the end of the tunnel, just as the mid-day sun floods through the south windows of the cathedral on a spring day.  

Saturday Photo: Snowdrops, and Spring Is on Its Way...

Well, actually the snowdrops in front aren't as far along yet--this photo was taken a couple of years ago--but there definitely are little green shoots coming up.  In addition, we woke up last Sunday morning to the scent of skunk: another definite sign of spring.

Heaven knows we need all the good signs we can get!  The authorities keep telling us that the light is showing at the end of the tunnel.  I must admit, also, that we had our first Pfizer vaccine almost two weeks ago.  But given that Covid-19 variants which might escape the vaccine are swirling around, I guess we'll have to look to the those things which make us smile that have nothing to do with pandemics!
 

Saturday Photo: The Frozen St. Lawrence a Year Ago Before All Hell Broke Loose

 On March 9, 2021 we got our first Covid-19 vaccinations, which was very appropriate since on March 9, 2020 we had our last carefree escapade.  That was the day we took the train from Montreal to Quebec City: two night, three days, much good food, great walks and a visit to the Musée national de beaux arts du Québec.  We came home on Wednesday to find things turning upside down, and we haven't ventured out of Montreal since.

This is what the St. Lawrence looked like from the heights--beautiful and cold.  This year we had a winter full of snow and ice with little rain or freezing rain which meant that getting outside around here was great for walking and (for those younger than me) skating.  Thank goodness for that!

As the light appears at the end of the tunnel, I still find myself looking back to that lovely little trip, though.  It has sustained me....

Satuday Photo: Light at the End of the Tunnel

 The photo may not look like much, just a column of light falling on a bedroom wall, but it means that spring is almost here.

Every year about the first of March, the rising sun swings far enough north to shine briefly in our back bedroom.  Not for long, and then just a sliver, but it means that in a month there will be a much longer period when the sun peeks around the buildings outside and shines in the back of our house. 

Of course, this week has given us deep winter conditions, but it's nice to have a glimpse of what is coming.

Saturday Photo: Because We Need a Smile..

 It's up to you to choose which smile, of course!  Came across this smiley-hat wearing gargoyle this week.  It seems to embody the crazy back-and-forth emotions of this crazy time...

Saturday Photo: Waiting for a Bike Ride...

 Or maybe it's winter storage for bikes!

Days are getting longer, this winter of our discontent will be over sometime....

Saturday Photo: Winter Biking, and Valentine's Day

Yesterday, February 12, was this year's Winter Bike to Work Day.  I'm not a cyclist (no way, hit by one age 5, finally learned how age 50, and now wouldn't even try.)  But since the pandemic began more and more people who are actually going into work, are using bikes, it seems.

Really, even in this climate!

Here's a photo I took this morning on my walk (of course, walking is what our two legs were made for!)  Obviously someone has things all set to go when the spirit moves her (or him.)  The other, skelatal bike raises more questions.  Left here certainly since before the snow got deep, and without its seat which suggests its owner wanted to make sure that it wasn't taken before it was wanted for use. 

But also, tomorrow being Valentine's Day, an idea popped up my devious mind: is this the way little bikes are made?  At the end of the winter will we find two or three kid's bikes chained to the post?  

À suivre... 

Saturday Photo: Funeral for a Dear Friend, a Fine Man

 

Today a few of us will be celebrating the life of Michel Lizée who died just shy of his 70th birthday after a long illness. As a tribute in the CUPE newsletter put it: "an exceptional activist who worked all his life to make workers aware of the importance of planning and financing their retirement."

 The tribute continues: "His achievements include the implementation of the innovative FTQ wage-funded pension plan for workers in community and women’s groups. In 2010, this plan won the prestigious Plan Sponsor Award from Benefits Canada in Toronto. He was also one of the major architects behind the implementation and development of the UQAM Community Service, which now dates back more than 30 years, whose objective is to support the work of unions and community groups in Quebec.

"An economist by training, UQAM hired Michel Lizée as a research officer back in 1972. Four years later, he joined the SEUQAM (CUPE 1294). He was initially a union representative in 1978 and sat on the Conseil régional FTQ Montréal métropolitain, on the Retirement Committee and was then elected president of the SEUQAM, an office he held from 1983 to 1988.

"A member of the Université du Québec (RRUQ) pension plan retirement committee for more than 30 years, Michel Lizée was one of the most high-profile experts on pension plans, which truly were a passion of his. It was important to him that all employees, whether unionized or not, enjoy a retirement befitting the term. "

Because of the Covid-19 state of emergency, the gathering will be small, but like the sun  on this wild flower, the light that he shone in this dark world illuminates us all. 

Saturday Photo: Time to Get Outside...

 Snow and cold temperatures must not keep us inside in this winter of our discontent.  Here are footsteps in the snow, showing that a lot of people are fed up with confinement, but have chosen to get out safely...

Saturday Photo: What To Do on a Snowy Sunday

 It's been a remarkably mild winter until last week.  Sunday we had a spectacular, wet snowfall, and peple enjoyed making all manner of snow creatures.

And then there was this solitary woman reading on a park bench Sunday afternoon.  Obviously it wasn't all that cold, but also obviously she wasn't going to waste such a beautiful winter day by staying indoors.

Good on her!

Saturday Photo: Let's Do Lunch at the Atwater Library

Construction goes on despite Covid-19, concrete and cement continue to be made--with all that implies for global warming and quality of life.

I'll be talking about that and about my new book Concrete: From Ancient Origins to a Problematic Future at 12:30 p.m. EST Thursday, January 28, 2021.  It'll be one of the Atwater Library and Computer Centre's lunchtime series--by Zoom, of course.

If you'd like to join us, contact the library's tech wizard at ralph@atwaterlibrary.ca for the Zoom link.  You also can get a 15 per cent discount on the book by ordering through the University of Regina's website and using the code CONCRETE15.

Saturday Photo: All's Good, and the State of the World

 All you need to know about Montreal in 2021:  this industrial building in Mile End has not been used for that for a long time, as you can see.

 Don't know when Sweeney Barrel Co/Ltd went out of business but I wager it was a long time ago, and ordinarily I have a lot of problem with graffiti.  This however seems to me to encapsulate Montreal and maybe the world at the beginning of 2021. That is: remnants of the past, filth of the present, and a reminder that somehow we've got to keep at it, if we are to get ourselves out of the current mess. That "all's good" is something to strive for.

Saturday Photo: Life Continues (if you're lucky,) Welcome 2021

 The photo was taken 10 years ago, during the holiday season we were out of our house because of fire next door. We survived that with little permanent damage, thank you very much, but repair of the smoke damage took eight months. That Christmas was the first one we were grandparents, and I wanted to celebrate.  In the end, we had a good time, but it was a bit of a scramble to make the apartment where we squatted (rather elegantly, also thank you very much) look festive.

This is another new year's message at the end of year that was much worse.  Not that we were touched directly except for the various lockdowns, but it's been a sad experience for far too many people.  Let us hope that the joy of colours and enough to eat and hugs (even virtual ones) make 2021 a better year than 2020.

Saturday Photo: Christmas in the Cemetery, and Health Care

We went for a walk with the gang yesterday, doing the right thing for this Covid-19 Christmas.  No hugs, no inside gatherings, but at least we were together for a little while.

Didn't get to Mount Royal cemetery as planned, though, for complicated reasons that don't belong in this blog, but I had hoped to show the kids and grandkids these markers that I just noticed for the first times last week. They are for Billy Christmas and his wife.  He was an athlete at the turn of the 20th Century, and his beloved wife (apparently she convinced him to give up contact sports when they married) died early of breast cancer.  They also lost a daughter to a brain tumour when she was 15. According to the citation proclaiming him a member of the Canadian Sports Hall of Fame, in the 1930s he was an early champion of hospitalization insurance for ordinary folk. 

I only discovered that latter fact today when I stated looking into who he was.  Nice to give him credit for that fight, as well as his prowess on the playing field.  We didn't get universal hospitalization insurance all over Canada for another 30 years, but it finally came.  Now why can't our friends to the South get their act together do something similar.

Saturday Photo: Lights for This Year...

There have been years when I've railed against people who put up Christmas lights--waste of electricity, bad taste, just generally not cool.  Besides it's hard to hook them up to a plug inside: the one time Lee and the kids brought some home we decided they were too much trouble to bother with.

But this year I decided we needed a little light, so I found some battery-powered ones and wrapped them around a wreath.  They look very cheerful, and seem just what the doctors ordered in this Plague Year.  They complement the paintings on the front door, too, which are rainbows that the grandkids did back at the start of this dismal  period when kids around here appropriated rainbows as a symbol of the hope that everything will be all right.

So far for us, things really have been all right, touch wood.  Do hope you and yours are also doing well.  If you'd like more details about what we've been up to, check out our end of year blog here.

Saturday Photo: What I Can't Find This Year...

This is going to be a Christmas not like any other I've experienced, but we're healthy and we have more than enough to eat, so I shouldn't complain.

But I will, anyway.  The photo is of the salt herring I bought just 10 years ago when we were camped out in a rental apartment after a fire that put us out of our house for 8 months.  (Didn't lose much, weren't hurt, shouldn't really complain about that either.)  What I was preparing to do when I shot the photo was filet the fish and put them to pickle in order to make Swedish sil according to my mother-in-law's recipe.  It was a holiday tradition, and by last year even two of the three grandkids had come around to liking it.

In recent years I've had trouble finding salt herring in Montreal: for the last two years I bought a pail from a local wholesaler who this year has been been having issues with sanitary practices, so I haven't even tried to buy from them.  Two weeks ago we checked out various kinds of commercial pickled herring--including a Swedish import--but even after spending a week in the pickling solution, the taste and the texture of the fish were clearly not up to standard.  

So what I think I'll do is just pickle onions in the pickling solution and pretend that everything is just what it should be.

And that, on reflection, is what I guess we all will do this year.
 

Saturday Photo:No Snow, Temperature Up and Down, Bushes Confused

Took this a few days ago after a short spell of warm weather--up as high as 15 C.  This is not to say we've been spared cold weather so far because there's been two snow falls and a month of September that was quite chilly.

There is no doubt that winter is coming or is here, yet this bush seems to think that the cold nights are really just bad dreams, and so is getting ready to leaf out.  Its hopes (if it's proper to speak of plants having hopes) are certain to be dashed soon.

Our hopes for small gatherings at the end of December--promised by the premier of the province if we were good--were dashed this week as hospitalizations, deaths and Covid 19 cases continue to rise. Looks like it will be a Zoom Christmas...
 

Saturday Photo: Light at the End of the Tunnel?

The days are getting shorter and shorter--only three weeks to the Solstice, more or less, and the sun around here is rising about 7 a.m.  Dark days, indeed.  The prospect of a holiday season in confinement makes it all even more depressing.

But this morning, when reading that the Canadian government projects having the majority of the population vaccinated against Covid 19 by next September, I suddenly felt much more hopeful.

Yes, things are rotten right now, but all signs are that it won't last forever, if we're prudent.  Next year at this time we ought to be able to be planning big get-togethers, promising grandkids a visit to see Caisse Noisette, not worrying about crowds when shopping...

Of course, we have to get there, and it may be a long slog.  But let us enjoy what we can this year, and hope for the best for next.
 

Saturday Photo: What to Do on a Dark Winter Day

 

Elena Ferrante’s top 40 books by female authors

What to do these long, dark days when you may be in semi-lockdown: Elena Ferrante's top 40 novels by women (from The Guardian.) I've read 13, how about you?

• Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Fourth Estate)
• The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood (Virago)
• The Enlightenment of the Greengage Tree by Shokoofeh Azar, translated by Anonymous (Europa Editions)
• Malina by Ingeborg Bachmann, translated by Philip Boehm (Penguin Classics)
• A Manual for Cleaning Women by Lucia Berlin (Picador)
• Outline by Rachel Cusk (Faber)
• The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion (Harper Perennial)
• A Girl Returned by Donatella Di Pietrantonio, translated by Ann Goldstein (Europa)
• Disoriental by Négar Djavadi, translated by Tina Kover (Europa Editions)
• The Lover by Marguerite Duras, translated by Barbara Bray (Harper Perennial)
• The Years by Annie Ernaux, translated by Alison Strayer (Fitzcarraldo)
• Family Lexicon by Natalia Ginzburg, translated by Jenny McPhee (Daunts)
• The Conservationist by Nadine Gordimer (Bloomsbury)
• Fates and Furies by Lauren Groff (Windmill Books)
• Motherhood by Sheila Heti (Vintage)
• The Piano Teacher by Elfriede Jelinek, translated by Joachim Neugroschel (Serpent’s Tail)
• Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami, translated by Sam Bett and David Boyd (Picador)
• Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri (Flamingo)
• The Fifth Child by Doris Lessing (Flamingo)
• The Passion According to GH by Clarice Lispector, translated by Idra Novey (Penguin Classics)
• Lost Children Archive by Valeria Luiselli (Fourth Estate)
• Arturo’s Island by Elsa Morante, translated by Ann Goldstein (Pushkin)
• Beloved by Toni Morrison (Vintage Classics)
• Dear Life by Alice Munro (Vintage)
• The Bell by Iris Murdoch (Vintage Classics)
• Accabadora by Michela Murgia, translated by Silvester Mazzarella (MacLehose Press)
• Le Bal by Irene Nemirovsky, translated by Sandra Smith (Vintage)
• Blonde by Joyce Carol Oates (Fourth Estate)
• The Love Object: Selected Stories by Edna O’Brien (Faber)
• A Good Man Is Hard to Find by Flannery O’Connor (Faber)
• Evening Descends Upon the Hills: Stories from Naples by Anna Maria Ortese, translated by Ann Goldstein and Jenny McPhee (Pushkin)
• Gilead by Marylinne Robinson (Virago)
• Normal People by Sally Rooney (Faber)
• The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy (Harper Perennial)
• White Teeth by Zadie Smith (Penguin)
• Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout (Simon & Schuster)
• The Door by Magda Szabò, translated by Len Rix (Vintage Classics)
• Cassandra by Christa Wolf, translated by Jan van Heurck (Daunts)
• A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara (Picador)
• Memoirs of Hadrian by Marguerite Yourcenar, translated by Grace Frick (Penguin Classics)

Saturday Photo: Concrete and the End of the Road...

 The Globe and Mail this weekend is featuring a number of articles about cities.  Among them is one about the role that concrete has played in building them, and the threat it poses for us all.  Check it out here.

Saturday Photo: Bicycles and Winter...

It snowed on Tuesday, and is shirt-sleeve weather today.  Good day to go for a bike ride--or if you're like me, a walk.

Bixi, Montreal's bike share service, goes for another week, good weather or bad weather.  I haven't seen the stats on its use this year.  Probably down a bit because of the lock down early in the season, although a general increase in bike riding for the same reason might weigh the balance the other way.

Whatever, more and more people in Montreal are riding bikes all year 'round.  Probably good for their health, probably also good for the CO2 balance.