I'm 74 years old now, I don't feel much different than I did when I wrote the last blog and I certainly am no wiser. I remember thinking when I turned 70 that if my 70s turned out to be as good as the 1970s were I'd be happy. Well they haven't been so far. As Leonard Cohen aptly put it:

"I ache in the places where I used to play."

But I'm lucky I don't have more aches and pains because in spite of my age, I still lack forethought. This week I went biking on backroads north of Falkland with five friends from the Vernon Outdoors Club. Covid has shattered the VOC into small bubbles. We don't always follow the pre Covid club rules of scouting all hikes and rides shortly before the actual event. I didn't bother to ask any questions about road conditions. As it turned out nobody knew anything anyway. We all had ebikes, no worries. We were heading north into the Paxton Valley. The first 10km were on a good, paved road with no traffic, a lot of uphill, but we could start our engines any time we wanted to. It was a beautiful day. We still had no worries as the pavement ended. For a few kilometres it was a good dirt road. And then it wasn't. But we carried on in high spirits. It got worse, pot holes became quagmire in the low spots and deep clay ruts on higher ground. There were cattle guards every few kilometres, which we crossed at full speed. I had told everyone about Ron Noganosh's rule of "9 er 90" for backroads. Finally some of the bikes had so much mud between the tires and the mud guards that we had to stop to try to scrape it out with sticks. The tires just wouldn't turn. I was helping and at the same time feeling smug about the fact that I had taken the mud guards off my bike when I first got it. I didn't like the look of them. But I was laughing on the other side of my face a few kilometres on when, as I roared over another cattle guard I heard a ping and my bike lurched back. I didn't fall but my bike was in bad shape. A spoke had broken and so had a strut that attaches the rack that holds the battery to the seat of the bike. I couldn't believe it. I was stunned. Gord, one of the men in the group, found some heavy plastic cable ties that his wife Mary had put in his pannier. Nobody knew why she had done that, but they did the trick. Ten minutes, three cables and about four bungee cords later l was back on the bike. We had about 5km more of mud, ruts and cattle guards. Then it was 20km of clear sailing under power on the highway back to Falkland. In total we biked 59km in the sun. I was drained, but the rack was so well attached I was tempted to leave it that way. For once, I listened to the very tiny voice of wisdom that I have and took my bike to the shop the next day. I have found a bike shop that is to bikes what Mike V's (the garage that Jay introduced me to) is to cars. They should have it repaired by Wednesday. 

Jay and May sent me a big brown box of Korean treats for my birthday. I was excited to get it because I hadn't received one since the last big Christmas box they sent to mom, dad and me. It arrived a couple of days early, but I opened it while on a KakaoTalk chat with them on the night before my birthday which was the morning of for them. In the Centre is the Korean herbal health potion that I now take every day. May assures me it is the fountain of youth in a box. I can use that. 

I haven't left the house in two days except to walk idly around the yard once or twice when the rain abated.  It hasn't poured like this since I moved to the Okanagan in the fall of 2010. I have a friend who's lived here longer and said the same thing yesterday. It rained so hard on Friday night that I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. It was not a clatter on the roof that awoke me but a scary sucking sound coming from the bathroom. I soon discovered; however, that the source was the roof. It is called a flat roof but it's actually slightly sloped down to a drain in the middle, like the bottom of a swimming pool. A roofer who checked it when I first moved in told me that they don't make flat roofs like that any more; it's too expensive and there are bylaws prohibiting the draining of rain water into the city sewage system. But he said that mine was well made and would last many more years. It passed a real test the other night. Rain rushed to the drain and down the pipe and across the basement ceiling to the main vertical stack through which all the water leaves the house to join the city sewer with such force it even sucked the water out of the upstairs toilet and made the sink and tub sound as if they had the dry heaves. Once I saw that the sound and fury in the bathroom really signified nothing, I went downstairs to make sure all was dry there. The noise in the ceiling was loud, but there was no water. Whew 😅! There have been winds with the rain. A heavy branch was blown off a maple tree behind my neighbour's house. It dropped near my parking area, so I have moved my little Mazda to the front street so it will be safe until the weather returns to normal. Or are we going to have to get used to a 'new normal' in weather too. Probably. 

In 2020 we seem to be starting to reap the final harvest of colonialism and the industrial revolution. 

This makes me think of Shylock's lines in 'The Merchant of Venice'.

" The villainy you teach me I will execute - and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction."

It shall go hard for those of us who have benefitted from colonialism and the industrial revolution, but for the earth itself and for those who have suffered for centuries on it, things might be looking up. And that's a good thing. 

The rain better stop so that I can get outside and give my little old grey cells a break. 

Iris and poppies in the front yard at sunset on Thursday evening. 

Happier days, outside

Much of the urgency seems to have drained from the Covid 19 pandemic as we tentatively enter phase two of the opening of society. The gadfly media has flitted to the protests in the USA and many other places in the world following the killing of George Floyd by a policeman in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The expression, 'going viral', had almost run its course into cliché, but it's been resuscitated into relevance lately. Everything is going viral: Covid 19, economic disparity, unemployment, racial inequality, legitimate anger, opportunistic violence, political incompetence...  A few centres of sanity and good will are holding on, but the spin is fierce and threatens to fling even them to the fringes. However, in my experience, it is often at the  fringes where you find people who hold on to the verities: family, friendship, a common humanity. The young are also a source of hope. They have energy, few vested interests, hope and every reason to try something new. Something new is certainly needed. 

Some hopeful faces of the future, Jay and his nephews, Woojin and Soojin

Poppies and thyme in the front yard