5 August 2012, Civic Day Long Weekend (whatever that means) and in the clutches of a long hoped for heat wave. Azure skies, woodpeckers hammering in the forested hills surrounding Tod Inlet, Canada Geese patrolling anchored boats for alms of crumbs, purple martins sky bombing anyone daring to approach their houses, small fry of herring drawing tiny circles on still water surface, dragon flies parking in mid air before shooting off again, otters snorting between dives.....and a host of boats swinging quietly at anchor.
One may walk along the path of Gowland Tod Park, double back at Wallace Road, where the 'Garbage Girl' has placed a receptacle for doggie-poop-bags, with a kind invitation to empty said receptacle on a voluntary basis. Plastic clad doggie poop piles up, but not too many volunteers seem to rise to the occasion of taking the whole lot away. Well, still better than the sky gazing dog owners, who always find something of riveting interest up there somewhere, as soon as their 'best friend' gets ready to lay an egg....which then is left as a booby trap for unsuspecting human feet.
We are in BC, things are appropriately regulated....not that it makes much difference to some of the nicest BCers.
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| These plants are carefully shielded from the footsteps of pedestrians, some rare orchid maybe? |
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| How many poets have written about sun dappled forest floors, and lacy foliage overhead, and soft birdsong sounding in the air...well, all that seems to be eternal |
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There are less boats converging on the Inlet to watch Saturday's Fireworks in Butchart Gardens. Maybe economic downturns have down-turned the altitude of fiery bursts of colourful explosions, as only a few highlights of the fireworks are visible from the water. Low level displays are invisible, ergo, unless one pays the entrance fee to gaze upon the entire pyrotechnics from a blanket on a lawn inside the gardens....not much to look at from water level.
This, of course is good news for SOME sailors, there are fewer boats marginally held in place by ill set anchors, fewer revellers drinking the night away, less private entertainment with out of control boat loudspeakers...in short, relative peace.
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| Millennium Dragon has been tugging softy at her tether for a few days, swinging to a gentle tidal current and an even gentler occasional current of air...waiting for post weekend quiet to weigh anchor again and head towards another harbour |
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| The little floating historical museum illustrating the history of old Butchard Gravel pit before it became a world famous garden. On certain days interpretive programs take place and Humpty Dumpty ever so often parks alongside it. |
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| Purple Martins glaring at me, and promptly raising a aerial attack of tiny dive bombers upon my dinghy. I am happy to wear a hat, as this little fellows almost come close enough to brush one's crown, emitting the most threatening screams at the last minute of their attack. |
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| During the day, almost all boats are surrounded by swimmers young and old, two and four legged, and the odd equine descends to the mud and gravel shore to examine the quiet waters of the Inlet. |
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| In Tod Inlet at anchor |
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| Through the rigging darkly....high altitude fireworks on a Sunday Saturday evening |
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| And the Grand Finale mirrored in the calm waters of the Inlet. |
