Rudlin and Camosun Streets
Look back along Rudlin toward Fernwood and you will see the square pinkish flat-topped apartment building at the top of the rise. (It’s a legitimate hill if you’re on a bike!) If it is now a hot sunny day you can imagine you are somewhere more tropical and exotic than Victoria with that building in view. But as it is seldom that hot or that continually sunny in Victoria bring your eyes back to the corner.
A serious renovation – I think they raised the existing house – is going on in the block leading to Johnson – that’s toward the stone
down-ramps. I can hear a radio and a saw and a nail gun and occasional bursts of conversation. Also the scuttling sound of a dried rolled-up leaf across the pavement at my feet. It was bright and calm and sunny half an hour ago but the forecast was for some substantial winds and this appears to be gathering; my skirt is fluttering as well.
Let’s move – briskly walking along Rudlin. The square building on the corner looks like it might have been a store. And across the street the line of tall trees might have once been a hedge.
This is an interesting street with diverse housing and a spate of painting seems in effect to judge from the houses freshly done, from the man actually painting as I walk by, from the siding on another house which looks as if it is being prepped for paint.
Look at the tower on the large house on the right, the terra cotta, avocado, kiwi house. The tower is at the back, reminding me of a lighthouse for some reason and the house seems to be more facing sideways then frontward: could be staring at the ‘pink hussy’ up the street.
Comes to mind now a new subdivision I saw recently on the outskirts of Victoria (isn’t that an interesting image, a city with skirts on its fringe), where the houses are facing all this-and-that-away because it makes sense to take advantage of views. It is quite unique and a marvel of design.
Further along at the back of a lot on the left there’s the remnants of a barn that I have been told has great historical significance but little appreciation at the moment.
A large black dog just loped by, all on its own, and raised his leg at a clump of dried grass near me, thankfully not on my sandals.
Two large tamarisk bushes – heck, they are now trees! – are in the front yard that has a grinning sun on the side of the porch. Tamarisk trees are so gorgeous but quite underused in gardens. There is both a spring and summer blooming variety and the pink feathery flowers, the soft green feathery foliage is very attractive. Whenever I have had them in a garden people have stopped to inquire about what they were.
Across the street the houses are on higher ground so there is a sense of eldership, somehow.
Dog just trotted by again and disappeared down a driveway. Maybe he takes himself for a walk.
Acorns on the road have been ground to nut meal by cars. On the sidewalk, written in the cement (an acorn just hit the pavement near me – boy, they make quite an impact!) is Kevin Nyjil Katie Toby Justin Paulie and something indecipherable. I wonder if this is Kevin P from the words in the sidewalk up on Bay. The lon ly guy. If so, he does get around. He can’t be all that lon ly.
At the end of Rudlin at Chambers is a large structure that I would mistake for a courthouse or coliseum at first sight – the six big columns, the round top like a giant flattened spaceship. It identifies itself as
FIRST CHURCH OF CHRIST SCIENTIST and having no knowledge of what the name implies wonderful images come to mind: savior and carpenter and son I’m familiar with. Scientist? Wow.
When you can tear your gaze away – and I assume you are standing directly in front for the full effect of that church – step back to the end of Rudlin and again look along to the pink structure way back up on Fernwood. It doesn’t look quite so large anymore, given distance and comparison. But it is still impressive and I like it and I give it a farewell wave.
We now have a choice. This is an interesting situation. Pandora Avenue is split by Harris Green, this delightful strip of green space that means you can walk on earth from here to Blanshard downtown – well, almost. So that is one option if kids are in tow and they and you need a break; suggest they race each other down the hill on the Green and stop and wait for you at Cook. Or run along with them. I would like to run thusly. So far I have not given myself permission to do so. Perhaps I need a kid or two to accompany me. To encourage me on. To pick me up if I fall to the ground in a pant.
This first week in September the leaves are still green and firmly on the London plane trees but come autumn this Green turns into a paradise of fallen fragrant crisps – usually quickly removed by the city works people but left long enough for some splendid shuffles.
We can walk down Pandora on this side or that. Let’s start on this, the left side.
The custard yellow house with blue doors and blinds on the corner stretches for half the block toward Johnson and you must walk along and look back up at it to see the most multi-windowed of solarium: small panes, large panes, round paned, door paned, skylight paned, even. It’s grand. And there is a wrap verandah.
The cute little house next door (along Pandora) reminds me of my grandmother’s house in St. Thomas, Ontario which is no longer there so the sight of this one is extra special for the memory. The insulbrick looks as if it were installed yesterday. Man, does that stuff last! There’s a huge pile of gravel dumped right in the gateway of the house one down and the man who has come from the house and is navigating that pile with a bicycle comments to me, “Thank goodness I have a mountain bike!” I laugh with him as he wheels it across.
Next door are the Louise Apartments. I wonder who Louise is or was. Perhaps this is a type of “Mom”-tattoo-naming.
Cross the street to the Green now. It’s a one-way street but, lord, be careful – a small black pickup truck just sped the entire block going the wrong way.
The sun has melted those chilly clouds and the wind has died. However, it is Victoria so, wait twenty minutes…………
Two new trees have been planted in gaps where I think trees were taken down; they are staked and sturdy which is cheering but one does look in a mope.
Two park benches are on the Green in this block, facing the ‘busy’ Pandora half of Pandora which doesn’t make a great deal of sense. I don’t recall anyone ever sitting right on the edge of the street inhaling traffic. Wonder if this was a “mistake” but too costly or time consuming to correct.
Look back at the Scientist Church now – you can see the scalloped topknot.
An interesting eruption of rocks on the Green happens by one of the benches. Lots of cigarette butts on the ground. The two kids now sitting and smoking on those rocks are scenting the air with a distinctive smoke. They try to meet my smile with a defiant stare but end up smiling back.
I hope the city continues to fill in the tree spaces with new ones. The new ones do look a bit piddly, come to think of it, and I wonder if they couldn’t plant nice big ones and get a few years headstart. Maybe these smaller ones have a better chance of getting their roots in and establishing. I hope the decision on size of planting has more to do with experience than budget. Green space needs trees!
You’d miss it if you weren’t looking so peer across the street now and see Rebecca Street, its sign hidden by a gracefully swaying tree branch. With memories of Sunnybrook Farm, I think Rebecca is a splendid name for a person and a street. Let’s go over and stroll along Rebecca. It seems only two houses are actually on Rebecca and this makes me wonder if there might be a street in Victoria with only one house on it. These two houses are at the very end of the street and their unique situation and complete difference to each other make it a worthy detour.
Be careful crossing here as well – cars tend to swoop down the hill with brake linings not hugely in mind: Cook Street is often red lighted, thus the need for sudden de-acceleration.
For a time ‘squeegee kids’ used to offer to brighten up your windshield at this intersection but I think they got bylawed away. Sometimes I minded them. Sometimes not. Human nature. Theirs and mine! A friendly guy (or girl) could change my attitude (and state of the glass in my windshield) in a moment but I always seemed to worry that the light would change and they would not be nimble enough to avoid traffic. I think I worried needlessly.
I just looked along the Green and thought two identical white dogs had stopped to squat at exactly the same time. Not so! This mirror image is caused by double vision from my staring at my notebook and writing for too long. Of course it could be the ‘weedy kids’-smoking-on- the-rocks influence. The owner of the dog did stoop and scoop and even with a bit of blinking he also looks a bit duplicated. Time to move along.
There are ‘heart carvings’ – they both look old – on one of the trees. And an anarchist symbol in tumeric-colored paint.
Walk with awareness down the Green to Cook. Archeologists could keep a daily record here and ‘story’ people’s activities. Unusual artifacts. Combs, batteries, pens, match covers, money, shoe laces, lottery tickets, clothing, grocery lists, a baby’s soother, underwear, food wrappers; I did not see all of these today but have in my walks here over the years.
Let’s perch on the bench at the end here which faces across Cook and along the continuation of the Green. A man just now trundled by with a grocery cart piled with his stuff, possibly all his household effects. Interesting to consider what I would include if I were to decrease my possessions to what would fit in a grocery cart.
That white dog – now in my single sight – just got its bottom wiped with a paper towel wetted from a plastic bottle by a woman who got out of a car when the man and dog returned. What a satisfying division of labor, thinks I. What a pampered dog.
I now look down to see some sort of ribbon caught under my toe in my sandal. I manage to finally extricate it with my other foot and leave it lying on the ground, justifying my littering and not having to hand-touch it (there is a waste basket nearby into which I could put it) by hearing my mother’s voice somewhere in memory saying “you never know who’s touched it or where it’s been.” Passed through a bird, perhaps, supplies my splendidly active imagination!
Wellburn’s Market is across the street. There is attractive architecture along the second floor; I’m told the apartments are funky and fine.
Wellburn’s used to have pizza in their deli that had people showing up around the time they were finished baking: they sold out quickly. The deli is still there but I am told they no longer make those pizza.
The Garden restaurant across the street has Vietnamese food and often spicy smells point this out. Natalie’s Pizza is now next door where the Polish Deli started out.
The wind is coming up and the sun is again behind clouds. Next time.
* * *
I’m back on the bench. I need a shawl around my shoulders this morning. There was a rain in the night and the tree over this bench has enough water on its leaves so that the wind shakes down giant drops and they splatter on my page and blur the ink. These ‘leafdrops’ are so much larger than the ‘regular’ kind. Time to move on!
Let’s pass by and read the plaque on the nicely natural rock that lets us know that Harris Green was named after Thomas Harris, Victoria’s first mayor from 1862-65. Makes me think how being the first of anything has the pleasant aspect of being a clean slate for just that reason and the unpleasant aspect of having no precedent.
Give a salute now to the next block of Harris Green as we are turning up Cook Street. The next block of Harris Green has the CBC Radio station on it. Family. It has been part of my life for more than thirty years.
Up Cook to Mason. Open Door Spiritualist Sanctuary is on the corner. It’s painted an interesting color – is it green or is it blue? A colored glass transom with multi-faith symbols is over and around the main door. The garden is quite wonderful in all seasons. Today the scent of rosemary and lavender and heliotrope is hue’d by red California poppies, pink nicotiana, deep pink wigelia (a few second bloomers, I would think), some last minute pink buddleia flowers.
Walk along the side (garage sales happen here but they only advertise on the bulletin board so you have to be alert!) and gaze into the brick courtyard with a bird bath and meandering paths. But we must do a visual walk: the gate is locked.
Continue along Mason. On the left is a park with benches and playground equipment, a swinging bench and picnic table. There used to be a barbeque or two and the smell of grilling food was a nice addition if walking by on a summer evening but these are gone now.
The hodgepodge of a building across the street houses “All Temp Refrigerators and Appliances Sales and Repair since 1964”. There are interesting apartments upstairs, the kind where the years have merged into a collage through the decorating instead of total renos now and then.
Between the green house (which faces on Balmoral but its garden fronts here) and the next house that reminds me vaguely of Cape Cod, or at least New England, there is a space now covered in garden. It’s a ‘growing’ commercial enterprise and I have some memory that it is called Up From The Ashes with an enterprising young man supplying local food places with fresh greens.
What I recall is the very funky (in the truest sense of the word as I just described the All Temps apartments) house that used to be here filled with characters and cats. And! – a straw bale house in the yard where I came to buy eggs produced by the hens clucking around. The house of straw was beautiful. Paintings hung on the walls indoors – on those straw walls! – wonderful paintings. And it was furnished in furniture you would not think would furnish a house made of straw. It made me aware that I had many notions of just what and how a straw house ought to be furnished.
A hedge of fragrant fennel runs along the street edge of Ashes. I’ve taken a frond or two in the past and enhanced a fish dish, taken a frond or two for immediate chewing and the delight of licorice, having first wiped it down my dress with the hope that this is removing pollution or, god forbid, dog pee. (It would have to be a very tall dog, I assure myself, and pick only high up fronds.)
On the left across the street is St. Andrew’s Elementary School with ivory walls and green roof and trim, tall narrow windows, a crucifix on top. A mural of flowers dance around the ground floor. The building looks large until you cast your eyes to the left and can’t help but compare the angled gray building with large windows and balconies and a slatted marine blue/gray roof. It is not, this building, square but looks like the architect has taken advantage of multi-directional views with the angles. It has the semblance of being able to revolve.
To the right of St. Andrew’s are – spires! Three of them! But don’t look long now – we will be going closer.
On along Mason. I’m chewing on a few fennel seeds. Mmmmm. Reminds me of black balls, three for a penny, layers of different colors so you had to keep taking the candy out of your mouth to check on the color or stick it out on tongue and try to see the color and then check with a friend if you had gotten it right; at the very center was an anise seed.
There’s an interesting driveway covered in brick at the ‘Cape Cod’ house. Some handmade tiles are under the porch with initials on them and I have a vague memory of chatting with a woman here at some point in the past and having the story behind them explained. But I have forgotten the details now. I pause to wonder if it is worth the frustration of partially remembering something. I guess it is. The alternative is likely to be able to access our memory with something like Google. Now, there’s an idea…………. Just type in (press certain places on palm of hand, perhaps) “initialled tiles on Mason”, press GO (likely a spot above my left eyebrow) and in seconds – dah dah – details will appear in the ‘screen’ behind my eyelids, like a movie, replaying the original chat with that lady over the tiles.
The next house fronts on Balmoral. I love its molasses cream and caramel color and its wild garden that overrides the fence.
The rest of the houses on this block watch the goings-on at St. Andrew’s across the street.
A few large pink rose petals on the sidewalk cause me to look up and I see, high over my head, on a tall bush, several large pink roses and many large rosehips.
The second house in from the corner just got fixed up and now it is up for sale. It looks nice, a blue/gray color that rather reflects the roof of the tall building across the way, the one with the angles. Maybe that was an influence on color choice. Lately a lot of people do seem to be painting their houses blue.
Turn left at Vancouver and walk along beside the school. There is a bike path here and when I realize I am on it and not the pedestrian sidewalk I quickly correct: when I am on my bike and on a bike path the presence of a person walking on the bike path makes me cranky.
Within the school grounds there used to be a vegetable garden just beyond the playground but at the moment it has some clumps of four o’clock flowers. The trouble with school gardens (she says from experience) is the maintenance they require across the summer holidays.
We are at Pandora now – gaze left back across the Green to complete the view we had from Cook Street facing this way toward downtown. St. Andrew’s Elementary School says the sign and it has a flowerbed of red and blue and yellow blooms in front of it. Look up to the alcove high above the front door. St. Andrew used to perch there but I think he, in statue form, began to shed pieces so he was removed. I thought he might be off being repaired but it has been ages so I assume not.
* He’s back! And looking very substantial now. Bronzed.
The tree across Pandora Street on the corner of Vancouver on the next stretch of the Green toward town is rather strangely proportioned looking as if it should be far taller than it is considering the size of its base. I don’t think this is the result of cropping at some point in its life. Once I hugged my way all around the trunk; I think it took five of my outstretched arms spans. I’d check this out today but the sun has ducked behind clouds and I am too chilly for tree circling which is a sunny day activity with a friend or two along to keep count.
Turn right along Pandora. The mountains that might have been ‘out’ and able to be seen far in the distance along Vancouver (they are actually over in the United States, Washington state, I believe) were not on view today or we would have stopped and stared.
McDonalds, on the corner of Vancouver and Pandora, has lovely flowerbeds with orange, yellow, red and maroon flowers interspersed with orangey ornamental grass.
The Open Door is on the left across the street, offering services to those in need of the basics of life. Lots of people are milling about its ‘open door’. There’s a large bright mural on the wall of a building behind it.
Next come Mediterranean and Middle Eastern Foods where the soup is splendid, the service friendly and the produce makes me feel I am once again across the Bosporous; Cranberry’s Café which seems in an idle state, perhaps permanent; APW Painting and Renovating with a most realistic painting of a guy on a ladder leaned against the wall putting the final touches onto the signage.
* Cranberry’s is in full swing again, under new management. I have yet to sample the menu but the art work on the walls is inviting.
A tree, tall and lean, hangs over the road, sort of ostrich in appearance.
Behind it is Alix Goolden Perfomance Hall, sporting one of those previously viewed ‘spires’. There are a number of them here.
Pandora and Quadra. The Green actually ends here but I ‘cheat’ and pretend that the boulevard across Quadra that extends nearly to Blanshard is part of it because I like to think of extensive green space in a city. On that ‘extension’ at the moment is a man on a riding mower cutting the grass. As I write he crosses the road, stops directly in front of me, cuts the motor, gets off and is now picking up litter with tongs and a bucket.
Two girls in ‘hippie clothes’ (bare armed and sandall’ed with filmy colorful skirts) stride by as another woman, in a business suit with a scarf large enough to do duty as a shawl, passes them and as she walks by me comments, “Bracey, isn’t it?” and I agree. My fingers are a teeny bit blue in the wind.
I suppose I could cause some consternation if not commotion by sitting on the vacated seat of the riding mower – the man is far up the street. Better not. My sons would likely not want me to make it onto the pages of the Times Colonist in this way. But I do spend some time imagining the headline.
Turn right up Quadra. The sun has suddenly returned but the breeze remains cool.
Wildfire Bakery stands out immediately – it’s on the right but there is no need to point this out. There is an ongoing art show on the exterior walls of Wildfire, compliments, I believe, of local folk. The people responsible for Wildfire started baking in a brick oven in a front yard over on Denman quite a few years back and I was one of the growing number of people who showed up at the designated times for freshly baked bread. Wildfire has bread and buns and sandwiches and sweet stuff and Café Fantastico coffee and salad greens in season (from Up From the Ashes mentioned earlier). I particularly like the presentation of gorgeous baked goods on slabs of slate
Mostly I take my tea and goodies outdoors and sit on the wooden bench along the north wall where I am art-accompanied by the paintings on the wall.
Take a peek around the back of the building for the beauty and the drama – energy to be released - of the stacked wood which I guess is fuel for the ovens.
What has struck me about spending time here on the bench is the opportunity to leisurely view car interiors. It is fascinating. Not something you can generally do – either the car is speeding by or if it is stopped and you stop and stare inside there is the possibility of raising someone’s suspicion as to your intention – and I have caught enough tantalizing glimpses into the contents of cars to appreciate these ‘viewings’.
(I am extremely wary of car interaction after trying the doors of one because the lights had been left on – the owner came sprinting down the street yelling to ask what I was doing – we both were embarrassed when I explained but I felt the extra emotion of fear when he admitted, “I was ready to tear your arm off.”)
Car interior surveillance is a worthwhile activity when there is no danger. Some people have very interesting things inside their ‘home away from home’ – decorations hanging from the rearview mirror like baby shoes and toys and symbols and trophies and flowers and clothing. And the things people transport! Or maybe some of this is a permanent part of the car. Furniture. Again clothing. Books. Footwear: skis in July in Victoria was intriguing. Closed up boxes. Closed up boxes with labels – “MISC” always makes me curious. And so on.
Sometimes I find I am sharing this bench with others. Once I sat beside a young woman who was on her way to an appointment at the Department of Human Resources down the block and twice in her conversation about going there and why she had to go there she referred to it as the “Department of Human Remains”. This was totally unconscious, I think, or else she had the makings of a stand-up comedienne with a deadpan delivery.
Oh – take care if you perch on the bench – it is fine all along but a sudden weight at either end tends to tip it.
Across the street is another of the spires seen previously. Topped by a weather vane. The Church of St. John the Divine.
To the left is First Baptist Chvrch. That is how it is spelled in the cement. I wonder why. It is a big solid brick building – nicely balanced – three double doors, three triple windows flanked by another triple window above double stairwells at either end, four large columns with rams horn decorations on top. They knew how to accessorize in the old days! I don’t think it has been a church for years. There is A-AA-ABA Books at street level. (I expect this gets it a first listing in the phone book.) There’s a For Sale sign on the front. Wonder what the asking price is.
I was horrified awhile back when I saw someone painting the lovely old gray cement a blue color and you can see where someone began to have second thoughts about this – a brush stroke deferred. There are also two large splashes of white on those pillars but I suspect this was to cover graffiti. The building has great potential. I suppose the major factor is financial in what it will eventually become – or unbecome. I don’t suppose many people have the money or the moxie to breathe some sort of decent life back into this place.
*Something is happening! A sign says “28 condominium units”. I hope they have an open house when finished.
Now, having ‘absorbed’ First Baptist Chvrch on its own, see it as one of a quartet of buildings and be differently impressed.
Next door is The Turtle Refuge, a white-sided, green-roofed, purple/turquoise/toffee trimmed backpackers inn. Rustic travelers are often on the porch taking in the sights and sounds of the world right there and of each other.
Next door to this is Rosedale Manor, a white with thin strips of brownish squares two-storey chunky block of apartments.
Next door – across the street – is The Sand Piper, a ten or eleven storey yellow bricked, balconied building of condominiums.
Across from St. John’s Church. Across from Wildfire Bakery. What an eclectic collection of neighbors. Imagine the language, the dialects, of the conversations!
Let’s walk along Quadra to Balmoral. The Abbey on the north west corner conjures images but it looks secular now. Apartments, I would think, being right across the street from the First Metropolitan United Church with its massive-staired entrance, three arched double doors and huge stained glass window. Boy, churches really went all out, didn’t they. Are such being built today?
Turn right now along Balmoral and walk along beside the First Met. The Intercultural Association of Greater Victoria has offices downstairs here. They have great book sales and people line up before the doors open hoping for first selection. I’ve gotten to know where the Knitting books are usually to be had.
Keep walking. The church is spread along. There are the offices and then the Christian Education Way. There’s a nicely kept garden here with lavender and santolina, dusty miller, black eyed susans, asters, roses, butterfly bush still very much showing blue/black bloom (I think this is called Black Knight). The rose is a cherry and white – brilliant in the sunshine.
The First Met and St John’s: two churches on the same street, with the road between them. The block is in a state of transition – there’s a brand new olive green house still behind a protective construction fence, a stucco house, empty lots, a boarded-up house with more protective fencing. Then the Canadian Linen and Uniform Service behind a no-nonsense chain link fence occupies a great space that goes right to the next block.
Next door to this is a lovely old lady brick house that used to be Poor Richard’s Books for many years, was sold, and is now up for sale again. When in Poor Richard’s you might have been in Montreal or New Orleans or Paris – oh, the books would have been different – it was the feeling of an old bookstore where books are cherished that I mean.
Such diverse elements are all waiting on the next stage for this block; will have to wait and see what unfolds.
Vancouver and Balmoral. A white and shades-of-lilac house is on the corner opposite, the colors make me think of French pastilles, the candy that is fragrant as well as tasty. It’s charming. The house and the candy.
Turn left. Past Poor Richard’s. The sign is gone – it’s now Dundee Wealth Management - but the former name persists in my mind. Catch glimpses into a hidden garden with fruit trees. A man with a post hole digger and a truck with what looks like chain link fencing is busily making holes along here. Wonder what will have ‘mushroomed’ in a few days. There is always something happening.
* A black chain link fence. I’ve never seen one before. It is okay.
North Park and Vancouver. A friend comes along and we have a nice chat.
The Heritage Cat Clinic is on the left – colorful – and a man comes out with a pet carrier just as a woman goes in with a pet carrier. Differing sets of concerns. I have taken enough pets to clinics to relate to this experience of to’ing and fro’ing with the varying emotions.
Turn right along North Park. There is lots of new housing along here – I can recall the huge empty lot. We walk past the Vancouver Island MS Centre where a Ponderosa pine has dropped dry copper needles all over the ground; they smell delicious – I don’t usually think of fir trees ‘shedding’ and foliaging the ground.
Further along , on the left, is a stucco’ed duplex but each side is nicely different in roof shape, window treatment, arched entrances. The garden out front has changed over the years but has always been interesting.
The block on the north side is a mix of businesses and houses – Orca Book Publishers, Waterglass Studios - a vintage lighting place in a fascinating building; walk across the street to view it properly.
The lot next door is an over-wealth of blackberries climbing up to windows but someone has cut down the vines in front of the fence and it looks as if the fence is imploding over the cut stalks.
Next door to this is a long red ‘caboose’ house with an abundant garden at the front, a hidden garden between the living wall and the house, a viewable garden along the side over the gate. There’s rosemary, sage, ornamental grasses, lemon verbena, lilac, cedar, roses, potato vine, and what looks like white bramble. White bramble is hard to find! This may not be it, but it looks like it, in its early stages. I’ll try to remember to keep checking on this – I’ve never seen actual mature white bramble but the pictures I’ve seen of it keep nudging me to view it.
Next is Garside Signs and Displays where I have seen artists perusing the ‘garbage’ for raw material. Then the Cycling Resource Center, home of the Greater Victoria Cycling Coalition.
We’ve come to Cook Street again. Cross over the street but not at this intersection – it is just too nerve wracking – go right to the crosswalk or left to the lights at Caledonia and get to the other side. Cook Street does have sudden and rather startling traffic-free spaces but these are not dependable. It is one street to experience if you are craving ‘city’.
Walk along North Park (it’s to the left if you’ve gone to the crosswalk, right if you crossed at Caledonia, straight ahead if you were lucky enough to encounter a car free time), past WIN and The Parsonage and Elements Furnishing Finds; take a break to browse or snack.
Two houses on the left behind cedar/lath fences are ‘old’ twins, one storey, rather doll like and cute. There is something deeply satisfying about small spaces. Womblike, I guess. But isn’t it interesting that we think of this as a pleasant time, assume it was warm and comforting. Maybe we were impatient and cramped and bothered by stomach rumblings. Enough for now. See you later.
* * *
Back. A few days later. Refreshed and ready to continue.
Glance up the street and see Vic High in a ‘peering’ stance (from its viewpoint) over the tops of other buildings. The multi-paned, multi-windows add to the image.
There’s a wet and squashed shirt on the road, white with black stripes and yellow detail. Roadkill, in a way. Did it fall from someone’s car? How so? A laundromat-trundle-home lost? Blow off a clothesline? A hot flash discard? It could be a shirt for either gender and I am not about to pick it up and see on which side it buttons.
As I write this a crow squawks and a woman’s voice speaking Chinese comes from behind me. I glance casually around – to see a couple coming from a house with a laundry basket of clothing. I move away from the squashed shirt but it is not claimed by these people.
A young woman pushing a baby in a stroller saunters by, she engaged in conversation on a cell phone. ‘In touch’ has taken on a new meaning these days.
Further along, on the left, a wall of cement blocks and what looks like large rocks haphazardly-cemented are now painted a soft green. It is my favorite color of green. Look on the reverse side which is unpainted and moss-decorated. Both sides have their appeal.
And look at the trunk of the duo’ed, trio’ed – quadruple’ed –etc! tree on the side of the driveway across from the wall: splendid rivers of texture very pleasant to the touch and scratch marks near the base suggest cats have found it attractive as well.
The blue (and it is blue!) house which the tree fronts reminds me of a very long, very wide trailer come to roost long, long ago. Maybe the trailer and the boat visible in the backyard foster this thought.
Across the street two lacey crimson Japanese maples nicely soften the square, symmetrical, cream and chestnut house which has different designs of stucco on top and bottom.
On the left is Gail’s Hairdressing. Her clients are local and foreign (Fernwood, Fairfield, Oak Bay etc.) Gail specializes in hair extensions and once did one for an Arabian show horse.
There’s a nice capped stone wall for a comfortable lean at N Park and Chambers. I perch for a bit and consider that if I were a street I would resent a street sign stating N Park: couldn’t the city stretch the material to four more letters: North Park.
I’m now writing in ‘rain’ - enough drops to perhaps end this but for now will ‘slosh’ on.
We come to Chambers Street and – oh! – I just glanced behind me – North Park St. the sign says. Right on, Victoria City Works Signage Department!
There is a sign by the block long garden:
The Compost Education Centre
386- WORM
This makes me smile.
Chambers Street Allottment Garden; A Fernwood Community Association Project 384-7441
Standing under a sumac now to write – even so the ink is blurring in the rain – a squirrel runs by and across the street so there is no need to companion myself with Hurry Hurry Hurry Squirrel – but I do.
Hurry, hurry, hurry, squirrel,
Roads aren’t meant for you.
Hurry, hurry, hurry, squirrel,
I hope that you get through.
These roads are meant for business, squirrel,
You’re small and nondescript,
And people drive these cars, dear squirrel,
Their consciousness not tripped
By souls as rare as yours.
So hurry, hurry, hurry, squirrel,
My heart runs there with you.
Hurry, hurry, hurry, squirrel,
Oh, scurry, scurry – do!
(from Moon Madness and Other Skywritings)
The squirrel was headed my way along the sidewalk, not seeing me as I was standing so still, and then veered suddenly as he caught sight. Actually it was me reciting the poem out loud that caught his attention.
A crow behind me has just dropped an acorn on the pavement – they make quite a plop. And sparrows are chittering as they contend for space on a seed feeder inside the allotment garden.
A man on roller blades glides by pushing a little girl in a jogging stroller and they are laughing together over something she is holding – it seems to be a cookie that is disintegrating in the ‘rain’.
Raspberries and cosmos are chumming together just on the other side of the fence. Large, ripe, red berries. “Don’t mind if I do,” I’d reply if someone happened to offer me one or two across that chain link fence. Isn’t that a rather unusual sentiment. Don’t mind if I do. We know what it means but what is it saying. Who isn’t to mind. The offerer? Me? Hmmm. I do not get a chance to say it, in any case. There is no one around to offer me a berry.
There is much of a harvest visible through the fence: scarlet runner beans, corn, tomatoes, peas, rhubarb, cabbage, kale, iris, beets, broccoli, garlic, lemon verbena. There’s a compost bin in a grove of comfrey. A wooden and metal bench on a rustic brick patio. Gardens without comfortable viewing places are lacking a vital ingredient.
A girl rides by on a low slung bike. I think it was a girl. I got a back view of long hair that was purple, citron and mauve. Reminded me of some hand spun naturally dyed wool that I have.
There’s a scarecrow in the garden that looks more friendly than scary.
Someone has planted red runner beans by the fence and I enjoy a few that are hanging on the sidewalk side. Delicious. Thank you to the person who planted them and allowed for this shared harvest. I might feel comfortable reaching through the fence (those raspberries would likely have softened my scruples had they been within reach!) but I am more comfortable picking those beans hanging over the sidewalk.
Five cars go by in a row and I look up, surprised. Rush hour on Chambers? They have their lights on. Good heavens. The sky has dimmed. Things happen unnoticed when one is ‘snacking’. But it has stopped ‘raining’ for the moment and I can write without a tree umbrella.
Vining Street begins here at Chambers at the end of the allotment garden but it is short with a NO EXIT sign at this end.
Hah! It is spitting seriously again. Later.
* * *
Several days later. Weather is a factor at this time of year on the strolls – not so much for the strolling but for the recording. Ink runs in ‘rain’.
Today it is cloudy and sunny. The taste of a windfall pear, chilled by the night and its contact with the ground, has a different flavor from one sun warmed. Equally pleasant. And the gritty, almost earthy taste of another red runner bean from the vines on the fence of the allotment garden make me decide to grow these in my garden next year.
* I do! And am still enjoying them in November!
Vining and Chambers: The sidewalk to the house right here begins at the side and soon splits and curves to the front door, angles to the back. So much more interesting than plain, straight, ninety-degree entranceways.
Chambers and Caledonia. To the right Caledonia seems simply a triple wide drive butting into a fence.
There is some sidewalk cement scratchings, the most interesting being what I first thought said Fiang Feet but on further perusal might say Fiana Feet with two hand prints. I guess you had to ‘have been there’ when it was first written.
To the left Caledonia does a long distance visual swoop. I’m seeing a huge crane and it has got to be at what will be the new arena. I can see Cook Street and then Vancouver St and Quadra Street and traffic crossing along them. I’m impressed by such ‘eye’ travel with the ability to distinguish markers along the routes.
I guess I can take off my wooly cowl now. The sun is full out and a mother going by pushing a baby in a stroller has a tank top on. But I note a bright yellow squall jacket tied around her waist. In Victoria we are weather savvy and ‘layer’.
On to Gladstone Avenue. A mailman trots by in shorts and short sleeves. Ah – the rest of the day weather will be fine. I trust our posties as the best weather forecasters; the survival of the ‘knowingest’, I have decided. The comfort of those who continue to carry our mail depends on their weather interpretation.
Spring Ridge Common is on the corner of Chambers and Gladstone. This is explored in detail on another Walk so let’s just stroll by and enjoy its street appeal this time. It’s all in a great glisten in the sun after the earlier rain and there is, of course, the fragrance of vegetation drying.
A cabbage butterfly perches on a buddleia bush. Some large rocks are pretending to be mushrooms that have just appeared. You can tell by the impressed looks on the surrounding plants who are going along with the charade.
The Norfolk beefing apple tree across the street from the Commons has only three apples on it this year. Darn. The birds and I are going to be in major competition and I have a feeling I will not be waiting, this year, for the fruit to windfall.
There’s a lovely cobbled driveway beside the house with the undulating wooden slab fence across from Stelly Street – the street with the missing sign.
Just before Pembroke Street, coming up next, there is a house on the left with one of those old-fashioned wire fences strung along poles with knobs and a gate with top decorations. This one is only about three feet in height but my memory is from childhood and I think of them as much higher.
Past Pembroke to Princess and Chambers. This is a block, along Chambers, of rather grand houses, shoulder-to-shoulder. One has been converted to four condos and the cherub in the front garden gazes upward and onward toward the steeple of the nearby church. The angel aspect of this nicely large garden sculpture is offset somewhat by what looks like a breast plate shield.
*It is gone! One day I catch sight of a man sweeping the driveway and I have to stop and inquire about the missing cherub. I am told that to avoid further problems with damage the owners decided to offer the figure to a new home and someone took it away. He doesn’t know who.
It would have required some serious moving so I hope the cherub is happily occupied elsewhere. I do tend to keep my eye out for him.
Across the street is a long and high cedar board fence, nicely segmented, weathering gently. If I recall correctly I used to hear chickens clucking when I walked along but not now.
A bike clicks its way up the hill past the sounds of roller blades on a young man who is clunking more slowly. I know the feel of a bike beneath me but I have never met the challenge of roller blades.
A lady in a black quilted vest over a sleeveless tank top with ears a la Walkman passes me and smiles. I realize I am overly warm and shed wooly hat, loosen scarf, unbutton wool cardigan. Well, it was cool when I left home this morning. Moving into shade will help. I cross the street and nod to the sun. Doesn’t work. Oh, this has nothing to do with the weather – I wanted to see the new paint on the houses along Chambers and couldn’t from that side; also the leaves on the plane trees beginning to turn color.
Princess Street. George Jay School on the left. A class out jogging around the block. Well, some of them are – mostly the ones around the man who must be the teacher. The stragglers seem to be more ‘strolling’.
George Jay is certainly impressive – new paint a few years ago perked it right up. There is a book out which gives its history.
Across the street is a church-like building, brown sided. The sign on it says Cornerstone Christian Fellowship and the bells ringing on a Sunday morning are so simple and clear and pleasant.
A cement cornerstone says EV. = LUTH
ST PAULUS KIRCHE
There is a Tigger’s Playschool and Daycare sign beside the church but the kids must be on a walk or inside.
I once took Shi Ba Fa lessons here. Met a nice couple who have remained friends.
Turn right along Princess. The corner store on the left stopped being a corner store awhile ago and looks empty. It likely sweetened many students from George Jay across the years.
*It’s being renovated! New windows!
I try to think what would be a fitting new occupant for the ‘corner store’ but all that comes to mind is the ‘corner store’ and all that implies for me – which is outdated and likely unrealistic. Maybe there is a present day equivalent that could give that personal service, community feeling but satisfy the economy of the owner. Artists have patrons – hmm, could corner stores?
A chain link construction fences in a house just along Pembroke – or rather, a house-to-be; it looks like a single house will replace a single house – usually one house goes down and two or more go up. A man on site tries to coax an orange cat to come back onto the property and cat-like, it waits on its own time until the man gives up calling it and then the cat casually walks back in. There is a large two car garage at the back of the property and a trailer. A woman comes out of the garage. Maybe a couple is building their dream home – singular. Wouldn’t that be a change. I’ll have to keep my eye on this.
*Yes!
Further on in the glass-fronted house neither Jack nor Joan are in sight just now as they usually are to wave and be waved at by all who pass. A neighborhood institution. Across fifty years.
The corner of Princess and Spring. Something is in progress that looks interesting in the garden at the house on the right, one in from Spring. The front verandah is creative. And next door is the garden of a plant lover. Lots to stop and gaze upon. In the summer a Moroccan broom in flower looks and smells like pineapple.
Turn left at Spring and walk along to Denman. The building on the north east corner used to be a pub, I believe. I would love to see a mural or mosaic happen on the flat angled wall depicting its past.
Turn right along Denman. I perch along the low stone wall alongside the Denman Manor Apartments which I find more Caribbean than European. A long line of calendula cheer the wall. Having put them in a salad last night I find my first thought as I sit amongst them to be culinary and then decorative. A phone behind me in one of the apartments rings on and on. Must not have an answering machine; maybe have an extended number of rings.
The same mailman from before marches along the street. Nice to have a job that is finite.
Oh dear – a garbage truck drives by and I am reminded I have not put out my garbage. Darn. I mean from house to can. In Victoria they collect garbage from outside houses, you don’t need to put it curbside.
The houses on this block of Denman tend to be behind trees and bushes. I have been in the back of a couple of them and both the gardens are wonderful house extensions but you have no idea of this from the street.
A seagull lands on the roof of the ‘possibly former hotel’ and I am startled by a flock of pigeons suddenly taking flight from the descent of the yellow-beaked intruder.
The section of Denman from Spring to Fernwood has got to be one of the bumpiest in the city for bike riding. My teeth actually chatter. This comes to mind from my perch in front of the Manor. A dog on a walk suddenly springs at a dog in a car considerably startling all of us.
Time to walk along. A monkey tree on the left is yet small with two brown blooms. I guess they are blooms.
On the right the house has a large sign in the window, red letters on white, saying CAUTION BEES. Inside or out, I wonder.
A car at the curb has Vermont license plates – such a nice green color. I love the New England states and have spent a number of enjoyable vacations there when I lived in Ontario.
A strange sound makes me look around curiously for the source – a man across the street is winding line onto a cast fishing rod. The spool was in the back of his station wagon but has now fallen onto the ground as he ‘reels’ it in.
A girl on a bike pedals up the hill and I realize going this way the ride is not nearly as bumpy.
We’ve reached Fernwood. On the corner behind the hedge wall are glimpses of courtyards and balconies.
That’s all for this walk, Folks. You are quite a ways from where we started. I’m going left and homeward. You’ll have to go right along Fernwood, walk along to Rudlin and then turn right again.
