With shorter, wetter days now, it takes a little more effort and a few more clothing layers to go roaming very far. By early September, I was regretting that the Hydration Series hadn't extended eastward another two miles to Renfrew Ravine. It's not a place I would explore on my own, but it's important locally as an area where Still Creek has been daylighted successfully and salmon, with a little help from their human friends, are already starting to come back.
Then, just as the previous post was going to press, I happened upon this announcement:
"It's a sign!" as one friend would say. Literally. So I hit the button and signed up. What's more, I could do some "daylighting" myself, revisiting a concept from an art book I'd acquired in the early 80s.
Here's one of Virginia Cobb's observations:
On one occasion, it was proven true for me when I found a flat, hand-sized rock slab with almost the same markings and proportions as a nearby cliff face familiar to us from our coastal hikes. I planned to hold this thought when I visited Renfrew Ravine.
I arrived early at the "Yin Yang Bench". (Is the world divided into yins who never arrive on time, and yangs who are never late?)
This gave me time to walk around and examine in detail the delightful fish-themed mosaic constructed some years ago by community members.
Eventually, tour group leaders and participants straggled in. Don't pass this on but, in truth, the session was organized chaos – in two languages. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the surroundings, and I looked underfoot for things that might test Virginia Cobb's observation.
Back at home, though, I found a more useful model in a piece of driftwood collected somewhere else -- and pretended that it fit the concept.
With this at hand, I created a pretty quick splash entitled "Ravine at Low Water – Hydration Series" (copyright 2025).
Remember my semi-serious theory that if I painted in very large size, I could hang with Gerhart Richter?
Spectacular, isn't it? Even if hung upside down or in the wrong orientation.
Now – just one more thing before we put Still Creek to bed:--(Don't even read this if birds freak you out). Our local beach bum crows have one of their massive roosts in this area. From Fall until the following late Spring, thousands of their kind migrate daily from beaches and coastal margins to East Vancouver and beyond. At first light, westward to the beach; at early sunset, back again eastward to the roosts. Just scroll through the pictures here to see what this mass flight looks like.
One of the pleasures of The Yellow House is that it's right under one of their flight paths. As much as I've complained about the new building to the north blocking my mountain view, I delight in seeing them making a rest stop there, morning and evening. A couple hundred might perch on the carpentry and crane, chatter away for a bit, and then with a WHOOSH, they're off in what seems a single coordinated movement.
And now, lights out on Summer Camp 2025. It's been tons of fun, at least for those inclined to high jinx.
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