azalea heaven

Grocery shopping in Vancouver: I walk along the seawall, listening to the slapping of waves and joggers' feet, take the adorable $2 ferry over to Granville Island, have lunch - stirfried veggies with noodles, tofu and egg while sitting outside by the boats with the seagulls, and then an espresso doppio (NOT Starbucks) with an apricot-ginger scone; buy some postcards and sit writing them in the sun, chatting to a man who trains guide dogs and has a beautiful Lab pup with him; buy bags of fresh soup for suppers at home and some multigrain sourdough, take the ferry back, back along the seawall, the ocean and rocks and waves, the sand, the wind.

I don't understand why people walk or run by the water wearing headphones. How can they not want to listen to the waves? The sound of life, to me. 

It's been a hard few days, watching one of my dearest friends go through a major crisis, cataclysmic revelations, after years of denial, about the effect on his health of his childhood family. Tough stuff. Now he has decided he needs to be alone for some time, so our dinner is off and perhaps I will not see him for days. Ah well. Yesterday I spent completely silent and alone, except for texts from my kids (Ben, eating scrambled eggs with leeks and peppers!), a call from Chris and many emails. I edited memoir excerpts for a client and then the rest of the day, except for my jogette, sat in Brucie's chair by the balcony and worked. I deleted scores of old bits from my Documents file, renamed things to make them easier to find, added and subtracted from the ms. Sat looking out the window. Definitely felt like a writer yesterday. 

As I wrote to Chris, I am here to be with him, sorry we won't be together. But I'm also here to be alone. So I'll just get on with work. And soon - a drink at the Sylvia Hotel with old friend Cathy. 

 Last night, walking by the water at dusk.

 Today, one of the trees nearly bent over with the weight of blossoms.

And speaking of blossoms - this is just outside the door of Brucie's house, a big azalea bush.

I am sad today for us all, for the weight of being alive on the earth - it hurts sometimes, as I think a song or two might have mentioned. But the ocean doesn't care.

Was going to post a fabulous video here I saw on FB - it starts with a woman lying on the grass, pulls back, back, back, to the city, the planet, the solar system, the universe, then goes back down down down, back to her and in through her eyeball to her DNA strands, molecules, atoms. Really gives a sense of perspective. See if you can find it, because I can't go on FB any more, my cursor keeps freezing. Now THAT'S scary.