Never believe that a few caring people can't change the world. For, indeed, that's all who ever have. Margaret Mead
Some caring person put up a handmade sign at the bottom of a trail I often trek through in Crescent Beach.
Although you can't tell by the photo (above), the trail is steep and gets me puffing, which probably means the climb is good for the heart.
I was in my twenties when mom died suddenly after a heart attack. Decades later I'm still not over the shock. Because there are many wonderful paths near my area and to increase my chances of a longer life, I challenge myself when I walk. At the bottom of the hill there's car traffic and a busy railway track.
There's beach access where folks go to refresh, build sandcastles and more.
Mother's Day is upon us. I wondered if the stack of rocks (below) represent mother and child. The big one could be the parent and the smaller one the child, although as we get older it can become the other way around.
Parents tend to shrink over time but mothering instincts never do for women or men who take positive steps big and small. Helpful deeds, like useful signage and walking, can save a life so Happy Mother's Day to whoever added the cautionary note to the back of their artistic Sandy Trail sign.
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads. Henry David Thoreau
EARTH DAY is coming and I’ve been thinking about the billions-of-years-old blue marble we call home. It’s clear that in this current wink of time humankind is the biggest biological threat to all life on the planet. Ravaging resources and hooked on cheaply made products, polluting chemicals, fast fashions and throwaway plastics, it’s a disposable mentality in a non-refundable world. We are literally choking on our own over-consumption, compromising the very air and water that make existence possible. If we keep it up, sooner rather than later, Earth could be as barren and oxygen deprived as the moon or Mars. A serious mind-shift needs to happen where there is value in having less and treasuring more of what we already have. Are we up for the task? Can we reverse damage done? I wonder as I go for my walks and catalog the fragile beauty. Some say those who concern themselves with such matters are Chicken Little crying, “The sky is falling.” I say hat’s off to the environmentalists/scientists and common folk who pursue ways to turn things around. Even if a reusable bag at the grocery store seems like spit on a battleship … a whole lot of similar small steps can result in a heap of difference and extend this magical moment in time.
I heart this planet is what the (above) art at the bottom of 1001 Steps in Ocean Park seems to say. Traces of humanity are everywhere.
On bright breezy days kites share the sky with the birds.
Several little known stairways lead to the beach in the South Surrey area.
The stairs over the train track at the end of 24th Avenue are covered in mesh.
Couples attach padlocks there to insure their relationships, perhaps imagining they're in Paris where there are so many love-locks attached to bridges that they're banned now in some places.
Mysterious pools form at low tide. They come and go without making a splash.
When the sun peeks through the clouds the ocean sparkles like fairy dust.
Shells are collected off the beach floor. Some creatures leave their homes unwittingly while others dig in. Some never leave, yet willingly make their homes uninhabitable, even when it's the only home they've got.
ANIMAL LOVERS know that best friends aren't always human. I spent countless hours imagining my own horse as a girl. This graceful creature with soulful eyes and long swishing tail was my perfect companion and confidant, galloping us off into great adventures. Since my opportunities to ride (let alone own) a horse were limited, I could only pretend, unlike the youngsters I recently spotted at Crescent Beach. Content at their slow pace, horses and riders were mirrored in pools of water and made inky shadows on the beach floor for SHADOW SHOT SUNDAY, WEEKEND REFLECTIONS and CAMERA CRITTERS.
BLADES OF GRASS look alike, although each strand is unique upon closer inspection. There's an endless supply of originals, from grains of sand on the beach to stars in the sky. Without the benefit of microscopic eyes here are some dissimilar duplicates I recently spied at a distance with my camera.
AUTHOR Emily Dickinson showed sensitivity as a writer with such prose as: “Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all."
More than wishes and fairy tales, hope is the light in an unfathomable world. It darts away to suddenly reappear with a song or a flutter. Fearing the dimming of its glow some strive to contain it through metaphors and pictures ... a hopeless task but worth a try as I walk about with my camera.
A seed holds the hope of a flower.
Visitors hope for kind receptions and hosts hope for guests that are kind.
Parents hope for futures brighter than what they've known.
Hope rests at the cusp of every sharp turn and prickly situation.
It rests in the pet hoping for a friendly pat on the head.
There's an ocean of hope in every drop and puddle. And from hope's lofty perspective, every feather and pen holds the potential to somehow fly.
In honour of International Women's Day I'm posting a picture of my three beautiful sisters standing with me (I'm the smallest one at the front) after sunbathing on the roof of an apartment building in Montreal. The photograph has dimmed and discoloured over time. All three sister have since passed away. Each one was gifted, passionate and strong in her own special way. Each one knew sorrow and pain, great joy and laughter. Each left an impression on me.
Of course, my mother (who must have taken the picture) was the strongest of all. The roof was our beach that day and we were all having fun.
HOW CAN you not love this little guy? The endangered Western Painted Turtle was just one of the unique creatures featured during World Oceans Day celebrations at Blackie Spit Park in Crescent Beach.
The global initiative to promote a healthier planet came to local beaches this Sunday. Tents were set up and there were many displays by naturalists and environmentalists. We saw how eggs are nurtured and covered with wire to increase the chances of turtle survival.
Plush toy animals were for sale as fundraisers. I didn't check to see whether the markings on each toy was different from the next. Nature's creativity knows no bounds and, like fingerprints, each live painted turtle evolves with a different pattern on its underbelly.
The Orphaned Wildlife Rehabilitation Society brought a falcon (above) to the event. The majestic bird had lost its eyesight while the monkey-faced barn owl (pictured below) permanently lost the use of its wing. The caring organization adopted the creatures in need.
It was early when my husband and I arrived. People were just starting to trickle into the event. The morning sun was already sizzling up the sea and sand and there was a party atmosphere.
Musicians and singers were warming up ... exercising their lungs and voices, filling the air with their jubilant sounds.
I snatched a few seconds of song from the folks below ...
and made a very "mini movie" out of it. Since I don't know the name of the group, I call them the Three Musical Musketeers.
On my best days I feel like Mr. Bean does in the inspiring comedic clip (below) from a movie. Check it out, it will surely make you smile:
The scene, enriched by the voice of French composer Charles Trenet, stars a gleeful Mr. Bean who is not at all desensitized to the wonders of the world that some people are so passionately trying to preserve.
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