A dark morning welcomed our still-drowsy eyes to a new day today. The kind of morning that persuasively recommends no hurry in getting out of bed. And we agreed. It was raining. And it would continue to rain for hours. With an occasional break to a lighter mode of drenching which we took advantage of to remind Jackie and Jillie of the requisite morning ritual in the backyard. The rain so heavy and continuous we resigned ourselves to the prospect of not getting out later in the afternoon.

 

Last night we spent an hour and a half on a Zoom call. A four-way call, our younger son, his older brother, our daughter-in-law, and us. To enable us all to enjoy a slide show our son had put together of  select photos of his trip to Spain and then on to Corsica where he spent another three weeks. When he called us from his trip the Zoom function failed. This time, calling from Vancouver, we had no problem with the video, but once again the sound failed. Something's wrong with my computer's speakers.

But with the use of telephone-plus-computer, the Zoom went well enough for us and he took us through his trip first in Majorca, and a few hikes there and then on to Corsica. He had stopped over in Nice, so there were some interesting photos of Mediterranean architecture. The photos of the mountains were of extremely worn looking, narrow summits. They reminded me of the geology seen in China, all the more so that the rock formations were a deep rich red (iron oxide).

 

Photos of beaches and people sunbathing were complete with wandering cattle strolling along the beach. Photos of mountain trails were shared with sheep and goats. Not wild, but domesticated, left to browse and fend for themselves; almost feral. Although a photo of a red fox in an unusual setting (bare rock formation) seemed odd. The Mediterranean was blue, blue, blue. He stayed over at pensions (guest houses) and when on the trail, made use of stone huts. If you can imagine a 'hut' made of undressed stone, laid dry without mortar; what you see on the outside is what you find on the interior.

He also found that the Mediterranean where he was had less aquatic life than he is accustomed to seeing in the Pacific around Vancouver. Some of the trails were actually laid with semi-flat stones. The area is hugely popular for mountain climbing, with a large network of trails that looked awfully rough to me. Such forested and mountainous regions, geologically raw and outsized are hugely valued by Europeans who travel to Corsica for the purpose of hiking the trails, staying over at huts, dedicating weeks to the trail system.

 

On all promontories there were stoneblock lookouts that dated back to an earlier era when pirates roamed the seas in the region and frequently raided and looted the many small towns sprinkled along the coast and on the mountainsides. An interesting trip, but in the end making him realize anew, the unique natural beauty that British Columbia is infused with.

Our own trek through the forest this afternoon when the sun drove out the clouds, the day warmed to 20C, and the ravine invited us to come along, was nothing quite so spectacular, which suited us just fine. After we'd finished cleaning the house, and I'd washed the last floor and gone upstairs to change, the puppies followed me in a riot of vigorously wild expectation, leaping about at one another and sliding about everywhere.

 

Yet another beautiful day in this approaching summer of 2023. The garden looked relaxed and happy after the rain, drying out in the warmth of the light-bursting sun. Our old honeysuckle vine at the front of the house is finally beginning to bloom. Irving and I poked about, trying to decide which of the garden pots distinguished itself in form, texture and colour from all the others. Impossible -- on the other hand, we both agree on the lush beauty of the annual begonias, the multi-hued new cultivars of golden yellow, the petals etched with orange have become our favourite.

But the truth is we love them all. It's downright enchanting strolling around the garden, looking at the beds and the garden urns and pots. Singly and collectively, they service well our thirst for aesthetic loveliness. The time and energy we deploy to maintain the gardens well worth the effort in the pleasure given us in return