My sister has a very “2009 style” relationship with Ewan, or as she affectionately calls him, her lifer. They come and go with each other, holiday together, date each other, and then go back to their own separate lives. It’s sort of rhythmic. And it works for them. She is a landscaper and he, a painter.
Ewan was having a solo art show at the gallery just down the street from his home so my husband and I went to see it. “Nice.”
” Very nice.”
” Hmmm. That one.”
” Yes, that one.”
And that was that. We loved his work, bought a piece within 10 minutes, and then rushed off to a holiday excursion. We weren’t expecting to purchase anything. We just wanted to see his work in a gallery setting, although we have seen and admired his work at his place, other peoples’ places, and even at the Vancouver airport ( where we accidentally discovered two of his pieces while we were waiting for a flight last spring).
So we are now the proud owners of a lovely painting that somehow stole our hearts in 10 minutes flat.
I went to Vancouver for the scattering of my aunt’s ashes at the site of a cabin my family used to rent for a few weeks every summer beginning in the 1930’s and lasting into the 60’s. Sadly, the vaguely familiar cluster of cabins no longer exists, but last week 11 of us piled into a couple of fishing boats and headed out to the general area, guided by a few original sepia coloured photos of the gang at Sunset Beach.
Grey rings marked the ocean surface as the rain bounced into tiny white drops before they melded with the water. Deep pink and rosy yellow rose petals dotted the spot as we all drew handfuls of her ashes and spoke in quiet tones, our own special words to her.
A good wife, a caring mom, a favourite aunt and now a loss to our family. We had a very good day with you. What a great day to reconnect with everyone. Rest in peace, Auntie Betty.
Now if you haven’t been to Vancouver’s Main Street, between 16th and 26th, then you are missing out on a very fine walk. The street is lined with antique stores, clothing boutiques, specialty restaurants, and fascinating special interest shops.
I was lucky enough to stop in at Birkeland Bros. Wool shop on a day that they run their mechanical carding machine. And she is beautiful. Churning and humming and chuckling away, she pours out reams of fluffy wool batting onto the final roller of her 100 year old assembly of carders and rollers and gears.