Category: nature

Posted on in environment, Historical, Hobbies, nature

Preparing for the apoco-eclipse

total eclipse graphic

Get ready, the apoco-eclipse is coming Monday, April 8. Here in southeastern Ontario, we are in the

….PAAAATH…..OOOFFF…..TOTALITY (said with a low booming echoing voice for maximum effect.)

For a whopping three minutes, the moon will pass in front of the sun and the earth will be in total darkness during the middle of the day, from 3:22 to 3:25 pm to be exact in South Frontenac.

From all the warnings and hype about massive traffic snarls and millions of visitors expected in the region, you’d think the world is coming to an end. My retinas are already burning from reading all the warnings about not looking at the sun directly and how to view the eclipse safely.

Granted this is a once-in-a-lifetime event. The last total eclipse in North America was in 2017 over the northwest US, but back then the eclipse’s path just 71 miles wide, compared to 122 miles AND the total time the moon completely covered the sun was just 2 minutes, 40 seconds compared to over 3 or four minutes this time depending on where you live.

I wasn’t sure just how big a deal this was, so I decided to ask an expert, my old high school buddy Brad Gibson, Professor and Director of the E.A. Milne Centre for Astrophysics at the University of Hull in England. Brad does presentations and TedTalks on subjects like will we ever live on Mars, the top 10 coolest things about outer space and are we alone in the universe?

Being the cool astrophysicist dude he is, Brad confirmed that “a total solar eclipse is always a blast”. He said they aren’t all that rare if you look at planet Earth as a whole since once every 18 months there is a total solar eclipse somewhere on the planet. In any given city, it’s more rare, like once every 300 years. I asked Brad what he’ll see in the UK and he said they’ll see a partial eclipse with about one-third of the sun blocked.

I also didn’t know that some weird and wonderful things can happen during an eclipse too. Animals can get confused thinking it’s nighttime, radio waves have been known to become scrambled, and seconds before totality, you may see shadow bands, or wavy strips of light and dark dancing on the ground like water at the bottom of a swimming pool. 

During the time of total darkness, you may also see the stars and planets, especially Venus and Mars. Now that’s cool.

Personally, I’m more of a northern lights, super moon, meteor shower kind of gal. The nighttime celestial shows outshine any daytime event, even the apoco-eclipse, throwing it into the shade.

This week’s #HappyAct is to get your ISO-certified eclipse glasses and get ready to enjoy the spectacle on April 8. And for those nighttime celestial lovers out there, they say tonight’s a good night to see the northern lights.

Posted on in health and wellness, mental health, nature

Overcoming the anxiety that comes with age

trees at night time

I’ve been a bit more nervous walking at night lately. It’s the strangest feeling and new to me since I’ve always been very comfortable walking at night.

I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because the coyotes have been very active, with their eerie howls cutting through the stillness of winter nights from across the lake.

For whatever reason, for the first few minutes walking, I’ve felt anxious so I’ve started taking my phone with me. At least this way if I slip and fall and break my other ankle, or the coyotes attack me, they’ll be able to call Dave and let him know where to find my carcass.

As we age, it is only natural to become more tentative and anxious. A few years ago, I had lunch with an elderly friend, and they confessed that for the first time in their life, they were stricken with anxiety. They had confided to their minister, and found talking about it helped, but it was uncharted territory for them and you could tell it had thrown them for a loop.

I’ve never been a worrier—I’ve always considered it a blessing that if Dave was late when the weather was bad or my kids were out god knows where, I never worried about them. But as I age, anxiety is slowly creeping into my psyche bit by bit. I find I need to make a conscious effort to fight through it using deep breathing techniques, telling myself not to worry, and redirecting my thoughts. 

Back to my nightly walks…on the nights when I do feel a bit anxious, I power walk through it. With each step, the tiny morsels of fear in my brain recede, and I embrace and revel in the beauty of the night, the magnificent stars in the sky, and the black silhouettes of the pine trees illuminated by the soft glow of the moon.

I stop and listen for sounds of the woods. There is stillness all around me. I hear an owl swooping up into the trees. His mate hoots in the distance. I am calm and the feeling of anxiety has passed.

Now if the coyotes would just stop howling…

Posted on in inspiration, nature, poetry

Reflections

My reflection in Reflections sculpture

Reflections of
Who I am
Who I want to be
Personified in
Perfect symmetry

Lines blur and blend
Bending to my will
Distorting where reality ends
And make-believe begins

I drift in and out
Amongst the reeds and the trees
My memories floating
Dancing on the surface

Reliving the past
Without absorbing
What might have been
What still could be

Filling an aching void
Always reproachful
Always critical
A bright light
Thrown back from the surface

If only we could change
To reflect a better version of ourselves
A flawless mirror
Illuminating the beauty
And light within our soul

Ed. note: The idea for this poem came to me after spending time looking at the beautiful reflections of the trees on the water on my lake. At first, it was going to be a photo essay, but it morphed into a poem after I visited a sculpture called “Reflections“ last weekend in a park in Pickering. The sculpture was erected in memory of those who lost their lives to COVID. Here was the description:

“Amongst the panels sits a solitary void to the open sky. The mirrors encourage us to see ourselves from different perspectives and contemplate the personal and collective experience of self-reflection and solitude. The missing mirror examines themes of loss and grief, representing those we lost to COVID-19. Every day as the sun crosses behind the sculpture, the bright spot created by the void cuts through the shadow as it swings across the ground. This light is a reminder that although our loved ones may be gone, they are not forgotten and will continue to be present in our daily lives, drifting in and out, both in influence and memory.”

trees reflecting in lake
rock reflecting in lake
reeds reflecting in lake
red tree reflecting in water
trees reflecting in lake
Posted on in environment, nature, travel

Be on the lookout for fall colours

Red maple leaf and fall colours

I went to bed the other night dreaming of red and orange mosaics. It was as if the brilliant fall colours we’d seen on the weekend had been imprinted on my mind, like a patchwork quilt, lulling me to sleep.

I can’t remember a year where the colours have been so brilliant or the weather so spectacular, but this is the first year we also ventured further afar, seeking scenic lookouts.

Our first scenic lookout was the Eagle’s Nest in Bancroft, Ontario. Located on Highway 62 on the north end of town, this popular vantage point is known for its spectacular views of the Madawaska Highlands and for spotting eagles. In the winter, you can sometimes see adventure seekers ice climbing the rock face. Grace, Dave and I walked the easy trail to the lookout. The sun wasn’t out yet, but the view was still incredible—dappled greens, yellows and entire swaths of red and orange.

Scenic view of fall colours

Views from the Eagle’s Nest in Bancroft

Our next lookout was Skyline Park in Haliburton. By the time we arrived, the sun had broken through the clouds, illuminating the reddish and orange hues surrounding beautiful Head Lake.

View from Skyline Park
colourful trees beside a lake
scenic view from lookout

Views from Skyline Park in Haliburton

On Sunday, we hiked the Lookout Trail in Algonquin Park, just off the Highway 60 corridor. This 2 km loop meanders through old hardwood forest until it reaches the summit, with drop-dead gorgeous views west over the park. It was a perfect morning and we sat watching the colours unfurl with each ray of sunshine.

Three spectacular lookouts with three spectacular views. I think the mosaics will be forever emblazoned in my mind.

This week’s #HappyAct is to find a lookout in your region and enjoy a bird’s eye view of the magnificent fall we’re having. Here are some more great lookouts in eastern Ontario:

algonquin park in fall
scenic lookout and fall colours in Algonquin Park
colourful trees on a trail
Author and her husband at the summit
Posted on in dogs, health and wellness, lifestyle, nature

What’s your happy state?

Bentley wet and bedraggled at the lake

They say people resemble their dogs. This is definitely true for Bentley and me. During the summer months, we know it’s been a good day if we’re wet and bedraggled.

Bentley of course, wears the look much better than me. After a day of swimming at the lake, his gorgeous russet brown fur glistens in the sunshine, making swirly patterns on his back.

I’m more on the bedraggled side, but I come by this look naturally. I have fond memories of my Mom, wet and bedraggled after a day at the beach at Lake Simcoe.

She’s been gone almost 40 years now, but I can still picture her walking back from the beach, in beat up old running shoes filled with sand, her short brown hair tousled with a few strands falling across her face. She wore an old one-piece bathing suit with a towel draped around her neck with a big smile on her face. We were always happy up at that old beach cottage.

I think about my Mom as I trudge up our wooded path from the lake, my feet squishing in my crocs feeling clean and refreshed. I’m in my happy state, wet and bedraggled.

What’s your happy state?

Author at the lake with a towel draped around her neck
Posted on in dogs, environment, family, health and wellness, lifestyle, nature, travel

Watch the world go by

boy on beach

My mother-in-law once said the biggest change she had seen in her lifetime was no one just sits anymore.

On my last sunny beach day in South Carolina a few weeks ago, I just sat on the beach and watched the world go by.

There were families who lugged their beach carts to the same spot they had the day before, filled to the brim with plastic sand shovels, coolers, colourful beach chairs and umbrellas. Before the adults could set up even one chair, the kids would grab the beach toys and run with glee towards the water and furiously start digging in the sand.

There were surf fisherman who sat close to shore, the water lapping up on their toes as their lines bounced in the white-flecked waves.

There were lots and lots of dogs, since it was a pet friendly beach. German shepherds, labs, a grizzled old golden retriever that lay beside its owners in a small patch of shade beside their chair, and breeds I never even knew existed like the German Elo (who was named Murphy, by the way, just like our old dog Murph).

There were osprey soaring in the brilliant blue skies, splashing into the surf to catch their lunch, then lifting slowly and wobbily, a fresh catch in their talons. There were pelican armies flying in formation patrolling the picturesque shoreline, and gulls, terns and sandpipers tiptoeing in the grainy sands.

And best of all there were dolphins. Spied first far, far out in the ocean. Their fins cresting out of the water in graceful intervals. Then closer to shore, coming near my two teenagers splashing in the waves. I try to yell at them to look, but they just wave back, oblivious of the magnificent creatures sharing the ocean’s expanse.

I couldn’t believe how many dolphins I spied that day. There were multiple pods, some playing in the waves, leaping in the white crests of the surf and blowing and chuffing as they came up for air. They must have known the weather was about to change and decided to enjoy their final day on the beach frolicking in the waves.

Yes, spending a day watching the world go by is a bit of a luxury in today’s world, but I highly recommend it…especially at the beach.

Ed. note: The photos below were all taken in the evening since I didn’t bring my phone to the beach during the day so they don’t capture the images I’ve described above, but I hope you enjoy them anyway.

terns and pipers on beach
deserted beach
Grace and Clare swimming in the ocean at sunset
Woman and her daughter on the beach
Posted on in health and wellness, mental health, nature, Technology and social media

Live in the cloud

Stunning orange clouds

In What if your best friend was a bot, we asked Siri what she looked like. She replied, “In the cloud, nobody cares what you look like”.

The height of irony? Maybe. But what a wonderful world it would be.

Posted on in environment, health and wellness, nature

The trees of my life

Man sitting on bench on BC coast

The Toronto Star used to run a column on a neighbourhood tree. I’ve always loved trees, maybe that’s why I married a lumberjack.

By my count, I’ve either directly or indirectly had a hand or shovel in planting tens of thousands of trees in my lifetime.

As a summer student in the Forestry department at the City of Mississauga, we reforested city parks, my favourite being Saddington Park, a former landfill and now one of the prettiest parks in Mississauga with beautiful willows we planted swaying in the lake breezes.

My family has planted trees every spring and fall at Lemoine’s Point Conservation area as part of their annual tree planting program.

And for the past seven years or so, I’ve sold seedlings as a fundraiser for local non-profit organizations like the Sydenham Lake Canoe Club. I’m looking forward to seeing my regular clients again this spring and hearing where they planted their trees from last year, how big they’ve grown, and what their plans are for this year’s seedlings.

Some days when I’m feeling down about the effects of climate change and our inertia as a global community to address it, I think about the trees I’ve helped to plant and it makes me feel better.

So this week’s #HappyAct is a photo essay, a tribute if you will, to the trees of my life.

Above: Dave beside arbutus trees on the Sunshine Coast in British Columbia

trees overlooking a lake

The beautiful pine trees off my back deck

Family sitting on a patio at a golf course

I always loved this pine tree at the 18th green at our local golf course in Verona. It came down in a storm a few years ago.

Magnolia tree in a restaurant courtyard

Magnolia trees in Chez Piggy courtyard, one of my favourite patios in Kingston

trees in Stamp River Provincial Park

Tree canopy in Stamp River Provincial Park in Alberni, BC

trees in the fall

Trees near the magic waterfall in the woods where I walk

Girl holding seedlings

Clare helping me sell trees as a fundraiser

Palm trees at dusk

Palm trees from the Carolinas, where we vacation every year

willow trees
Trees I planted 30 years ago in Saddington Park, Mississauga
Arbutus tree

Arbutus tree in British Columbia

Trees in the mist

More from my back deck, definitely my happy place

Posted on in community, Historical, nature, travel

Stop and read the signs

Gillies Bridge, Carleton Place

If you look around, there are signs everywhere but sadly, not many people stop and read them.

I do, I always have. I’m not sure if it’s the historian in me, or just an innate curiousity–I figure if someone thought it was important enough to erect a sign in a certain place, then it’s worth reading. It’s a trait that drives my family crazy.

On Friday, I went for my usual pre-game walk in Carleton Place before Clare’s hockey game. I was familiar with Carleton Place because Clare had competed in regattas there many times, but the arena was in a different part of town.

I started walking on a section of the Trans Canada Trail and came across a bridge that spanned the Mississippi River. There were several interpretive signs on the bridge, so I stopped to read them. Directly across from me was another bridge named Gillies Bridge in honour of John Gillies who built it in 1884.

Interpretive sign

John Gillies was the name of my father. Not the same John Gillies who built the bridge, and no relation to my knowledge, but it immediately caught my interest.

According to the Lanark County tourism website, lumber was king in the Ottawa Valley in the nineteenth century and John Gillies “was one of the industry’s crown princes”. He acquired the first sawmill in Carleton Place in 1866 and built the operation to employ 200-300 men to produce more than 20 million feet of board lumber a year. His mills eventually covered 300 square miles and spanned the greater part of six townships.

His Gillies Machine Works was his retirement project. After selling his mill operation, he built the Machine Works in 1875, manufacturing steam engines, water wheels, gearing, shafting and boat engines.

I thought this was ironic given Dave’s and mine luck with boat motors.

I stopped to admire the old abandoned millworks on the island, and then kept strolling, taking pictures of the old stone buildings since it was such a gorgeous sunny morning.  

It was interesting to read about this famous namesake, and in a strange way, made me feel closer to my Dad, who has been gone for more than 20 years.

This week’s #HappyAct is to stop and read the signs some time. You never know what you’ll discover.

Abandoned mill
Mill property
Old sprinkler on Mill
Posted on in inspiration, nature

The rainbow connection

Double rainbow

What is it about rainbows that make us look up with wonder and smile?

Last week, I saw the most incredible double rainbow. It appeared one morning on my way to work and I stopped to take a picture of it. My boss did the same thing and when we walked into the office, there were a bunch of people milling around the glass doors, gazing out at the beautiful arched spectacle framing the sky.

It’s easy to understand why we’re so enamoured with rainbows.

Rare, beautiful, magical, their kaleidoscope of colours are a miracle of nature.

Pure, elusive, we recognize they are a gift from heaven and we gaze at them with childlike wonder.  

They teach us that when things are dark and gloomy, light and beauty may be a raindrop away.

They represent hope and wonder and remind us of the importance of stopping to take in the moment, because at any time, their elusive beauty may fade away.

Just like the words in the song, even though they are mere illusions, we are transformed into lovers and dreamers while we remain under their spell.

This week’s #HappyAct is to find your rainbow connection even if you don’t see a rainbow.