Days in Pictures

To live in this place: days 281 — 285

There’s no such thing as “red”. Or at least, no one thing. I forget, then relearn it every year around this time. Green shading into orange shading into red shading into brown—and all in the same leaf or leaf cluster. It’s beautiful, and rarer here than back east since more plants keep their leaves over the winter. I’ll take what I can get.

Thanksgiving Monday I went on a little hike with a friend in Cypress Provincial Park. It was quite lovely, with a million shades of green and red and every colour in between. I saw the previous day’s rain beading on leaves, and ate some wild blueberries. They were small, and very tart, not like store-bought ones.

Not a whole lot of view where we were, but at one point we could see clear to the mountains of Vancouver Idland—half hidden by clouds.

On the way down, we stopped at a lookout with a terrific view of Stanley Park and Vancouver. And you know what? I am thankful to live in this city. Gawd knows it’s far from perfect—but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I chose to move here years because I felt I had to start over in a new city. I did, though it took a while. And for a long time I believed I couldn’t have made that fresh start anywhere but Vancouver. That’s wrong: I could have done it anywhere—better, maybe? That doesn’t matter. I made my choice, and I’m still making it every day. I could be anywhere. But I choose to be here.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. Pulling in long hours (and mostly enjoying it, though it’s of course somewhat stressful) so I leave when it’s already pretty dark. Hence:

An upward shot taken at Georgia and Howe coming out of Pacific Centre. I’m not very happy with this one, since I was kind of running out of ideas and just photographing stuff left and right and up and down. This was the only shot that day that spoke to me even a little. Ehh. Can’t all he winners.

A SeaBus coming into Waterfront, with those big-ass harbour cranes in the background. My brain kept coming up with the word “transit”—transit of Venus, transit of the ISS—as though those cranes were the sun or something. Well, they’re certainly big enough.

My brain also kept reminiscing about all the times I’ve taken the SeaBus. In the early days of working at TEI I preferred it to the bus: not faster but less crowded, I was guaranteed a seat, and I definitely had a nicer view. Maybe I could do it again, just for kicks? But that probably wouldn’t be much fun; nostalgia doesn’t give me much of a kick.

Hudson’s Bay, at Georgia and Grandville. Another one close to work. Another one that wasn’t so inspired. Hm. What to do? I need to be more proactive. Wandering around at night in the downtown core isn’t cutting it.

But then, haven’t we already established, in my ramblings about choice and Thanksgiving, that I could do this stuff anywhere? Maybe (again) I just need to look at it differently.

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