Whatizzit? 3 Answer

Peg was correct - this large lower limb of a huge Douglas fir is covered with a number of different types of lichens. I thought the massive clump at the very end of the branch was particularly impressive!

 

Lichens are a unique type of plant, made up of both algae and fungi but resembling neither of those specific individuals. In the Pacific Northwest they are a valuable part of the ecosystem, absorbing water, supplying nutrients to the soil and food for countless animals. They also are a well-known indicator of air quality.

 

This photograph was taken on Vancouver Island, British Columbia. For more information on lichens there, please click HERE.

All the Trees Will Clap

Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.

Worship the LORD with gladness;

come before him with joyful songs.

Psalm 100:1-2

 

 

Each spring, we spend some time up on Vancouver Island. The weather might be a bit more unsettled than later in the season, but the crowds and costs are less, so it balances out. We find the east coast of the island tranquil and inspiring, with miles of accessible beaches, mountains, forests, and streams to explore.

 

 

On those days when the clouds and fog lift, the view of mainland British Columbia is awe-inspiring; snow-covered peaks form a breathless backdrop across the waters of the Strait of Georgia.

 

 

Let the rivers clap their hands,

let the hills sing together for joy...

Psalm 98:8
 

 

Each day, no matter the weather, we spend some time out exploring. Two of our favorite hikes are through lush forests with deep canyons and fast-rushing streams.

Full to the brim with spring runoff, these waters gurgle, tumble, and crash their way over steep drop-offs and myriad boulders before leveling off and smoothly, but swiftly, flowing into the sea.

To be in their presence is beyond words - to be washed with their spray, enveloped in their roar, and dwarfed by their force is a truly humbling experience.

Because this engages all of our senses, we are led to contemplate just what and who we are, where we came from and where we will return to. We are reminded that there is intelligence and a power far beyond our comprehension.
 

... Then all the trees of the woods will rejoice before the Lord.
Psalm 96:12

 

 

And the trees - as in any full grown or old-growth forest in this part of the world - are utterly spectacular.

Cedar, fir, hemlock, maple, madrone, and alder - each is unique and inextricably connected to the climate, land, and other living things both above and below the soil.  They purify the air we breathe by supplying oxygen and absorbing other gases we do not use.

The materials that make up their bodies provide us with wood, medicines, and many other products. We are only beginning to tap the knowledge of the breadth and wealth of their influence on myriad other species in the forest.

To see their various colors and textures, smell their distinct odors, and to hear the sound of the wind rippling through their branches is to witness a design and variety that is unfathomable and unending.

Clap your hands, all peoples!
Shout to God with loud songs of joy!
Psalm 47:1

In our busy, self-serving lives, it is easy to forget our age-old connection to these things, but they remain essential to us nonetheless.

How wonderful to be reminded and to offer up our gratitude and praise for these priceless gifts!

 

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and hills will burst into song before you,

and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. 

Isaiah 55:12

For more information on:
Englishman River Falls: http://www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/englishman_rv/

Little Qualicum Falls:

http://www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/little_qualicum_falls/

ArtTrail # 10 - Little Town That Did

"Never let those who say it can't be done,

stand in the way of those who are doing it."

Karl Schutz

 

There were the country's natural features - thick forest, the stream with its powerful waterfall, and the deep water bay - which made it an ideal location.

Inextricably tied to its forest and the industries associated with it, the little town was established, grew, prospered, teetered on the edge of oblivion in a changing world, and refused to give up.

Long ago, a legendary shaman and prophet named Tsa-meeun-is (Broken Chest) lived on what is now called Vancouver Island, British Columbia in Canada. Surviving a massive chest wound, he became a powerful chief and his people proudly took his name for their tribal group.

Today, his name designates a river, valley, bay, land district, and the small town; it is now spelled Chemainus.

This historic little town lays about a quarter of the way up the eastern side of the island. Although descendants of the original inhabitants (now called Stz'uminus First Nation) still live in the area, the town itself was established and grew largely due to immigrants from afar.

By 1858, large sailing vessels would navigate the deep bay around which the town grew, bringing in supplies and carrying away loads of timber which quickly formed the basis of the growing economy.

A sawmill opened in 1862, operated by a swift-flowing stream and its powerful waterfall.

The railroad arrived in the late 1880s and the town slowly grew over the next thirty years. In the early 1920s the population was estimated at 600 with the inhabitants including many of Chinese, Japanese, and Salish origin.

 

By the late 1970s, with the mill antiquated and the timber industry suffering exceptionally difficult times, many thought the town was finished.

 

 



In the early 1980s the townspeople realized that diversification was the way to ensure the future and preserve this quality of life for the residents.

 

 

Awarded a grant from a provincial redevelopment fund, community leaders began searching for ideas on the best way to utilize the funds.

 

 

Ultimately, leaders were chosen to coordinate a murals revitalization project, which transformed Chemainus into Canada's largest permanent outdoor gallery.

 



It was quickly realized that the best subject for these murals was the town's link to its heritage. Forestry played a major role with the giant trees, rugged loggers, oxen teams, mill, and steam locomotives.

 

 

There were also significant historical events and the diverse locals - many with their own, unique stories. 

 

 

Beginning with five murals in 1982, today more than forty have been commissioned, with the majority portraying local history.

 

Recent additions include those honoring painter Emily Carr, who painted there in 1924.

 

To reinvent itself, Chemainus bared its soul by exhibiting its history on its buildings. 

Visitors now pour into the town to enjoy the murals, quaint little shops, local theater, and scenic beauty - all because it really is "The Little Town that DID".

For more information on Chemainus:

http://www.muraltown.com/

 

On the murals and artists:

http://www.northcowichan.ca/SiteEngine/ActivePage.aspx?PageID=49

 

On Stz'uminus First Nation

http://stzuminus.com/



Remembrance

Give sorrow words;
the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o’er-fraught heart
and bids it break.

William Shakespeare

The first time I noticed was probably the first year it was done, although I can't be sure about that. We had already walked most of the route when we stopped at a fenced observation point to view a lovely waterfall surging rapidly through a narrow, sheer-walled chasm. We stood there for some time, as we always do, soaking in the breath-taking beauty. Turning to head back up the few rock steps to the trail, something caught my eye. There, at the base of a rocky outcrop at the very back of this narrow viewing spot, were some wilted flowers and several votive candles. These had been placed there recently; we wondered and talked about it briefly on our way back to the car.

On Vancouver Island, British Columbia, this short hike, around the Little Qualicum River and Falls is one of our favorites. Because we are there off-season, there are very few others on the trail and we are able to experience the peace and quiet of the place mostly by ourselves. The following year, in that very same spot, we again found a candle and some dead flowers. Again, I wondered about this and thought it must be a small memorial of some sort.

Another year, the memorial had shifted and changed. Instead of candles and flowers in an out-of-the-way place, a lovely pot full of spring flowers had been set on a large, moss-covered rock - just outside the fence - on the very edge of the gorge. This time it could not be missed as the brilliant purple crocus, primrose, hyacinth, and bright yellow daffodils stood out against the dark forest background. The pot sported a bright yellow wrap and with tulip buds not yet open, was bound to last for some time yet. The sight of it touched my heart and caused me, once more, to think of loss and what a deceased person means to those left behind.

Several more years passed and we either did not take that hike, or I forgot to look, and the memory of that spot faded. This year, with the death of my sister still fresh on my mind, I did look. At first I saw no sign, but then, on the same moss-covered rock where the pot had been were some carnation stems with blooms long dead and faded. More lay strewn on the ground below. I have no idea what the story behind this particular yearly ritual is, but it is obvious that someone was much cared for, is still missed and remembered.

Memorial days, when the graves of heroes were decorated with flowers and garlands, are ancient customs originating in Greece 2,500 years ago. During our Civil War, both the United States and the Confederate States of America had Memorial days. By the late 1800s, many communities celebrated this day and, after World War I, observances began to honor those who had died in all of America's wars. Originally known as Decoration Day, it became an official federal holiday in 1971 and now falls on the last Monday of May. Officially, this day honors men and women who died while serving in the American military. Many Americans still observe the day by visiting cemeteries or memorials, holding family gatherings, and participating in parades.

Memorials, however, as that special little spot in the forest shows, go beyond those in the military. Many of us have lost dear friends and/or family members this year. Death, as we know, is a part of living. That knowledge, and the ache inside, does not make it any easier for those of us left behind. But we also know that life does go on; hope springs eternal. REMEMBER - for it is cleansing and healing to do so.

 What we have once enjoyed we can never lose.

All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.

~ Helen Keller

...took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, "This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me." In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, "This is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me." 1 Corinthians 11:23-25

Wherever It Pleases

If it were possible to have anything imagined come true, if only for a fleeting second, I would certainly leap to the skies and sail. Arms stretched out wide, legs trailing, I would float and glide effortlessly through the clouds with planet earth far below. It would take only a slight rotation of arms, turn of head, or flex of finger to change altitude, speed or course. Flying as high and far as I wished, washed by the cool air, its whoosh in my ears, I’d surrender myself to its will. Total, exhilarating freedom!

I have witnessed this. Driving home from a trip one year, My husband and I took a long, meandering route and happened onto the unique desert community of Osoyoos, B.C. A resort area, all of the town’s motels crowd the southern end of their large, treasured lake. Because beach access is so desirable and at a premium, these buildings are aligned with their narrow ends along the lake frontage. Rooms with a lake view and balcony are extremely limited. Local schools were not yet out for the summer and it was a weekday, so we were fortunate enough to get one.

Photo by Steve Hilebrand

Just before sundown a strong wind came up from the lake, blowing inland. We stood on the tiny balcony reveling in the view of water and sky, the raw power of wind whipping our hair, flapping our jackets. We became aware of a multitude of Seagulls - all “riding the wind” - approaching gradually and silently. Wings outstretched, they glided slowly by, above and directly in front of us, suspended in air, seemingly close enough to touch. We could hear the wind in their wings, see their slight adjustments of wingtip feathers and tails. No wing flapped; it was as if each bird was tethered to the ground by an invisible string held by some “kite master”.

Seagull by Lee Karney

Silently, they drifted across that end of the lake, changed altitude, then drifted back to where they had begun, over and over again. We found it an incredibly moving sight

              Dad at the Lake
My sister once owned a cabin on a lake in Montana where we gathered as a family each summer.

Winds came up often there, many times sudden and unexpected. I loved the sight and sound of waves crashing along the shore, but our family was always driven into a quick frenzy. There were things to be weighted down or retrieved from the beach, my dad’s motor boat to be hauled out on the “railroad”, outdoor living stuff to be anchored down up at the cabin. Our side of the lake was not timbered, just rolling dry hills covered with sage and juniper brush, so nothing slowed the wind. I doubt that much slows it there, anyway.

Tornado Damage at Canyon Ferry, Montana - 1967

One year a rare, small tornado did damage, daintily plucking the roofs off of two cabins, arbitrarily skipping several (my sister’s among those) then wrecking others before lifting up and away.

Tornado Damage at Canyon Ferry

Another year a wind-driven fire raged, begun by careless outdoor burning. In 2000, tremendous fires raged on both sides of that lake. Our family no longer owns property there, but years of memories drove us to follow the fires’ paths daily. Again, the winds played a role. It's not all bad news - past experience has taught us that the summer after a fire quite often brings an over-abundance of fresh, new growth.

Wind truly is an awesome power - one that I doubt we ever really “control”. Humankind simply learns (or not) to respect it, adapt to it, use it, live with it. It does what it will. So it is with all magnificent forces.

Washington State International Kite Festival
Long Beach, Washington

“Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to the spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, ‘You must be born again.’ The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”       John 3:6-8

Seagull images from:
U.S. Fish & Wildlife Services -  National Digital Library