I was so worried about the branch, I didn’t notice the tree.
It felt like the start of a typical day at my little Gallery Café on Mayne Island: get up at 7:15, throw legs over side of bed, attach clothing, make bed, wander around the gallery yawning and stretching, make a cup of coffee, cut up and eat an apple, prepare two large containers of coffee, make sure all baked goods are displayed nicely, sweep the floors, turn on a little music, and then – usually around 8:30, if time permits – sit on the comfy couch with my second cup of coffee and remaining apple pieces, open up my laptop, and immerse myself in the misery & trivia of the world.
Sip sip, nibble nibble, “Hmmm, I wonder what’s going on overseas?” scroll, select, click, “God, that’s just horrifying! That’s too depressing to look at.”… “I wonder what’s going on down south?” scroll, select, click, “Oh God, how is that even possible? How can he continue to get away with that shit?” “Hmmm, that was a soul-sucking experience, maybe a little Social Media,” flip, select, scroll, scroll, scroll, “Hmm…that’s banal…that’s useless…Jesus, so much advertising,” delete, delete, delete, “hmm…friends on vacation👍…oh, somebody famous died😢…forgettable bits of personal growth “meme advice”🤔 …oh look, haha! A cat running around in a batman costume!” 😆 Sip, gulp, sip, nibble, giggle, nibble.
And then… cccCCCCCCRRRRAAACCCKKK SSMMAASSHH!!!
My little building is surrounded by trees. Most of them are far enough away to provide ample light, and safety from, these giant majestic creatures. But there are 4 massive beasts which are tall enough and heavy enough which, if they released their grip on the earth, could come hurtling down and make matchsticks of the Gallery, and pudding of myself.
I have been in the vicinity of several tree crashes in my dozen years on Mayne Island and it always starts with the initial “crack” which grows in intensity – depending on the girth of the tree and the trajectory of its fall. Upon hearing this sound, our innate reptilian fear mechanism triggers an immediate sharpening of the senses, with a quick hunch, head spin, and echolocation to determine – in very short order – if we are going to die or if we have time for a second cup of coffee.
Ka thump!Rumblerustle rustle rustle…
Hmmm, dodged another one, I wonder if there’s one out there with my name on it? Maybe I’ll have a refill and go out into the yard and see what happened.
Realizing that the peril of imminent crushing is not happening, the reptile scurries back into his cave to await the next fear trigger.
Exiting the front door, I could see right away that it wasn’t one of the four old-growth fir trees that worried me most, and that none of my immediate neighbours had been pancaked. “Must be in the back yard,” I thought.
Wandering around the side of the gallery – coffee cup in hand – and venturing into the back yard, I immediately came upon the scene of the accident. Although it was a lovely warm day in August, with not a hint of wind, one of the old, gorgeous 40 or 50-foot-tall maples had decided to call it a day and come crashing down to earth. Its 2- or 3-foot-wide trunk and broad canopy fell across a well-used path that all of we occupants used regularly, and landed within 30 or 40 feet of my Gallery Café, and my little outdoor garden. Luckily, there but for the grace of God (and the seeming randomness of events) no one was hurt – and it even had the decency to avoid crushing our compost container, which would have been tragic.
Placing my coffee cup on top of the compost lid and waving away the little fruit flies – always a futile gesture – I wandered over to the mass of branches, limbs and trunks to get a closer look at the debris field for causes and results.
“Hmmm, looks like it broke off right at the base and has left its sister trunk still standing,” I thought. The “sister” was an equally imposing giant maple joined at a shared 6-foot-wide mother base, leaning perilously toward neighbour Billie’s cabin. Getting down on hands and knees and navigating through the tangle of branches and shattered limbs I could see what appeared to be a large hollow cavity inside the trunk, filled with rot and the remains of an abandoned beehive, which must’ve contributed to the collapse.
And of course, no amateur arborist report would be complete nowadays without a few snaps from the iPhone:
Turning now to the debris field and the mass of leaves, twigs, and branches which blocked our access to the lower part of the property, I thought, “Gee this is going to be a big cleanup, lots of time, toil and tools, I’d better call Dave.” We tenants of the property are lucky to have Dave & Eva as landlords, luckier still that they were both over on Mayne spending a little time on their 10-acre parcel of waterfront bliss. But managing a large chunk of land is not a walk in the park – so to speak – as there are always chores and work to be done. This new, unexpected problem was but one example.
After calling Dave, who assured me he’d come up directly with some appropriate tools and tackle the problem, I stood for one last look at this majestic, fallen tree, which I’d watched through 12 years of seasons from my kitchen window, when it dawned on me…the Widowmaker is gone!
A widowmaker (or “Fool Killer” as Mr. Google also calls them🤣) is a term used to describe a broken branch that is suspended in the air and stuck on a part of another tree. I learned this term from my brief stint working for Macmillan Bloedel, in Port Hardy back in the 70’s. These branches can be extremely dangerous and can fall at any time posing a lethal threat to anyone who might be standing underneath. I became aware of the widowmaker, hanging off this maple tree, when I first arrived on the property 12 years prior, and always made a point of pointing it out to anyone using the trail or doing work in the vicinity.
I would miss that old beautiful maple…but at least the widowmaker is gone🙏
And, true to form, Industrious Dave came – armed only with a saw – and proceeded to remove all the debris that was blocking our communal path. A beautiful fall bonfire awaits, and as Billie observed, a lovely supply of free firewood to keep her warm during those chilly winter nights
Another update to my podcast with Episode 19 (this will be the last one for a while)…and I’m cutting & pasting Ai’s descriptive preamble to my show, which again, I preferred over my own. It’s a seductive tech advance, and I have my own misgivings – yet, seemingly, not enough to stop me for using it as my intro!🤣
“A Roughneck’s Journey: Trials and Triumphs” In Episode 19 of the podcast, the host returns after a six-month hiatus, sharing tales from a bustling summer at the Shavasana Gallery and Cafe on Mayne Island. As the busy season winds down, the host revisits past ventures, including a brief stint as a roughneck in the oil fields of northern Alberta in the 1970s.
The story, titled “I Could Tell You Wasn’t a Roughneck,” takes listeners on a journey with two young men chasing the allure of big money in the oil sands. Through humorous and harrowing experiences, the episode highlights the challenges and camaraderie of life on the rigs, culminating in a decision that alters the host’s path.
Listeners are invited to explore these vivid tales, which are also available in the host’s book, “All Roads at Any Time.” As the episode concludes, the host reflects on the current state of the world, offering words of encouragement and hope.”
It’s October 10, 2024 and I’ve wrapped up my busy summer season at Shavasana Gallery & Café (https://shavasana.ca/2024/10/07/end-of-summer-season-wrap-up-reflections-projections/). As seems to be the case during these last 4 or 5 years (of an 11-year journey on Mayne Island – Pandemic closures notwithstanding), I’ve created a seasonal rhythm which comprises of a rather intense (for me at least, as a lazy & easily distracted 69-year old) May thru October “busy season” at the Gallery Café, and then a slower Fall/Winter season where I can dedicate more time to my wife Cathy, my son Cameron & his family (including a soon-to-be 2-year-old Grandson), my Vancouver friends, and……..my creative process.
Everything I now refer to as my “Creative Process” (Mask Making: https://clayandbone.com/portfolio/ , The Accidental Curator podcast: https://www.theaccidentalcurator.ca/ , writing: https://clayandbone.com/category/words-stories-journals/ , or sequel to my “All Roads at Any Time” book: https://clayandbone.com/book-all-roads-at-any-time/ )pretty much happens during this slower season. Although I still produce the occasional mask and bang out 2 or 3 podcasts during this period, most of my creative energy has been focussed on writing – which was moving along quite well last November thru April with 10 short stories “in the hopper” for a Volume 2 of “All Roads at Any Time”…but then the busy season hit and everything was put on hold.
Sorry to be boring you with all these mundane details of my process, but part of this effort is designed to help me break through my current “post busy-season inertia”…I view this blog/journal post as a sketch before I recommence painting – a writing exercise, as it were, to get the keyboard fingers, the brain, and the focus working together.
Inertia can be defined as passivity, but I know that my problem runs deeper than that – it contains an active element of avoidance or procrastination. And now, combined with all the troubling & worrisome geo/politico/enviro issues besetting us in these times, and the plethora of devices giving us constant internet access, with countless media sources and their polarizing opinion factories, it’s no wonder that a fella might be feeling – if not neurotic, anxious or depressed – at least a little bit……off. 🤔 I know that it’s necessary to discard these toxic distractions, roll up the sleeves, break through the inertia, and get back to “Plan ABC”…my writing gig. And, although I truly enjoy writing – once I’m engaged in a particular story or blog article – the transition from “Frenetic Curator Barista” to deeply reflective wordsmith takes a little time and patience, and warm-up exercises, like writing this blog.
And it’s always a little strange writing on this Journal/Blog because I rarely know if I’m reaching anyone. It’s like busking on the shoulder of Hwy I up the Fraser Canyon, outside of Spuzzum, as the cars and Semis go whizzing by. I know that a number of you have “signed up”, but I don’t follow my stats (although WordPress sends me updates), nor do I spend time or energy actively promoting this website (SEO & such, unless I’ve just written a new short story – then perhaps a little social media flurry will follow). My Podcast is a little easier to track, because I see the number of people that have downloaded it whenever I access the Podbean host site…currently fluctuating between 50 – 100ish listeners (topping out at 161 with my Famous Empty Sky interview: https://www.theaccidentalcurator.ca/e/episode-3-famous-empty-sky-interview/) My book has been easier to track because I’m directly involved with “Sales & Distribution”…luckily, and unlike most authors, I have an Art Gallery Café (https://shavasana.ca/ ) where I can sell my book, plus an Amazon presence & a Bookstore ( https://booksonmayne.com/ ), and to-date, have sold about 160 copies. I have zero expectations and am happy with all of this, because I enjoy the process.👍😊
For the past 11 years – the length of time I’ve been commuting from Tsawassen Ferry Terminal to Mayne Island and back – I’ve been keeping a Journal. I usually write on the hour-and-a-half trip back, keeping a record of my weekend Shavasana Gallery & Café activities, and my entries usually start with “…on the ferry to Tsawassen”. To date, I’ve filled 4 notebooks, and have switched to WordDocs recently to save lugging books around and writing longhand. So, although I’m not currently on “the ferry to Tsawassen” (I’m at my neighbourhood Starbucks in Kitsilano sipping a Tall Dark) and this is not a WordDoc, and it’s no longer October 10th (it’s the 12th), I’m going to treat this blog like a stream-of-consciousness journal entry with some thoughts, feelings, observations & experiences – a “further on down the road” snapshot, since I last did a similar, journal-type entry in January ’22.( https://clayandbone.com/2022/01/17/well-that-didnt-happen/ )
I’ve noticed, lately, that when asked, “Hey, how you doin’?” I’ve found myself oft replying, “Well, it’s a little bit of “The Good, the Bad & the Ugly”. Life feels very complex these days and “Pretty good how ’bout you?”, doesn’t seem to cut it and even feels like a brush-off. (Maybe that’s why people have stopped asking!🤣) One thing I have learned is to always try and find gratitude, even when things seem “Bad or Ugly” (and this seems particularly germane today as it is now October 14 – Thanksgiving Day🙏) Despite this positive affirmation, we are still – seemingly – in a challenging, multi-polarized, historical moment, which calls out for help…and I feel at a loss to genuinely know what to do. Of course, my AA brethren would direct me to Reinhold Niebuhr’s “Serenity Prayer”, which begins: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…”
Ok…I’m rambling, and here’s a peek into my “post-busy-season” brainfocus – it’s now October 17, I started this “exercise” a week ago and its taken me 7 days to write 7 paragraphs. No, I haven’t been sitting in front of a computer sweating over this piece for 7 days…I’ve been quite busy. Although I’m not enamoured of the preceding paragraph, I’m going to leave it in, because the purpose of this Journal/Blog was not to create a lengthy avoidance project and editing nightmare but to get back to the short story I started in April, called “Anarchist Ridge.”
Before that however, I do want to dedicate a little energy to my journalling process, and try and capture some of “The Good, the Bad & the Ugly.” of the past 6 months through a few photos I’ve taken. If you follow my Shavasana website, or Facebook account you may have seen some of these photos posted recently…and wow! look at that! It’s now October 23rd, and I’m just returning to this Journal post that I thought I was going to wrap up last week😆…yet again, I have been too busy to write, having spent the last 5 days travelling to and from Mayne Island and running Shavasana Art Gallery Café…ok, I think I am now officially blethering – combining tedium with insignificance in a particularly George Bathgate way…bring on some photos!
“The Office”
This is where I am currently sitting – the Starbucks at the corner of Balaclava & Broadway in Kitsilano – “my office”…I love the light, the good energy & the coffee
The Good – in no particular order
The Good Friends & Family:
An assortment of friends and family – this year was a little different because of visits from friends from my deep past, many of whom I hadn’t seen in decades: Best pal Herbie from Grade 1; my German friend Christiana whom I met in Crete in 1974; High School friends Eric & Kathy; and and old girlfriend Susan from the late 70’s.
The Good Music:
A fabulous year of jamming – summers on the porch, inside on the colder windier days. With a few performances thrown in for good measure: “Hrothgar & Heshedahl” on the porch & The Stones at BC Place Stadium with my son in June
The Good Neighbours:
Neighbours Justine, Billie and WT Collinson (the original colonist settler of Miner’s Bay, his first nations wife and 3 of their children) – with whom I share the magic & beauty of this 10 acre waterfront property on Miner’s Bay
The Generosity:
I am genuinely humbled by the kindness and generosity of my community – special thanks to Esnie & Joseph, Margaret & Andrea, Fil, Stephen & Joyce, Bill, Bob, Billie, Kathleen, Empty Sky & Jim, Gail, Katherine, Vicki & Harold, Allen & Kim, Keith & Alicia, Brenda, Dave & Kelly & Michael (and to those I have missed) for: Fruit of all kinds; decadent yummy treats from the market; salmon, venison, shrimp, corn, vegetables; Chicken Soup, bread & rice to tide me over while I had Covid; 3 books authored by Island Writers: Joseph Loh, Jeremy Borsos & John O’Brien; preserves – jams & chutneys; Bouquets galore; people who offer their assistance & time – babysitting Shavasana while I’m gone, fixing two lamps, constructive advice, car repairs…etc, etc; hand made cards – including a string of 17 very thoughtful, hand-made song-lyric cards, by Mary, to give away as mementos to guests; plus, arts & crafts, and – perhaps best of all – a set of knee pads from my landlord! (No, it’s not what you think – it’s to make gardening easier🤣)
The Beautiful
I woke up recently, aware of the many blessings in my life, some of which are included in this series of photos – the vistas, the flowers, the art in my Gallery, my beautiful & bright wife Cathy…and a few others which have given me joy this year but need a little ‘splainin’: my new book “All Roads at Any Time” displayed on the Ferry and in the Library; my son Cam, wife Nekita & Grandson Mateo at the Japanese Garden in winter; and the new pie shop in my neighbourhood – I like pie🥧😋
The Animal Friends…
I find that the arrival of animals of all varieties – mammal, amphibian, avian, and even insect – brings an element of joy and good energy into my life. Shavasana Gallery & Café is welcoming to all such creatures(well, with the exception of the last 3 major infestations of carpenter ants, caterpillars, and wasps!), and I’m especially delighted when friends – or strangers- show up with their dogs or cats…or frogs! (I always keep a good supply of treats for any of our furry friends) Cathy and I adopted a very small squirrel – Alvina – in Kitsilano, and fed her until she headed off, presumably to start her own family🙏
OK…that’s it for George’s treacly reflections on the pleasantries of life, all of which are moments plucked from the past 6 or 7 months. As I do this “Good, Bad & Ugly” overview, I’m struck by the much larger occurrence of things considered “Good” (for which I am grateful) vs “The Bad & The Ugly” (which follows) – this is a blessing for sure, however, I realize that I’m not including bad & ugly things which are occurring globally and which can (and do) have an impact on all of our mental and emotional well-being. Or, the situational and emotional events which happen to friends and family – which are hard to express in photos – yet can still impact our well-being if we are at all compassionate or empathetic. Anyways! Bring on the Bad & Ugly!
The Bad!
I realize that most of “The Bad” during this period was situational, subjective and transitory – and I feel lucky that it wasn’t “Badder”😊 – but it seems that a lot of the good is too, and that bad has the ability to arrive like and unwanted guest…and never leave: Petting a dog vs. terminal health diagnosis🤔…: A faithful kettle breaking at an inopportune moment; discovering a mysterious wound gushing blood while waiting for the Expo Line; the reliable Safari Van needing a tow off-island for expensive repairs; disruptive trail construction in front of Shavasana; Covid & self-isolation; unexpected high blood-pressure results; floor damage after frozen/burst pipes at Shavasana; urban blight in Kitsilano, as a nearby landlord evicts a tenant and the bailiff chucks his possessions onto the street; new trail signage, making access to my business a bit more awkward; and 2 large pallets of Spam at Costco…which allows me to stop and ponder for a moment that, no matter how bad my bads are, they can always be worse🤣
The Sad😢
Rena Chase, Lemar, Joseph Synn Kune Loh – very sad to see them all leave us this year, I will remember each of them for the particular joy they brought into my life, and the lives of others❤️❤️❤️
The Ugly:
Ugly, is bad baked in with stress, slathered with anxiety and sprinkled with longer-term negative significance. My neighbours Billie, Justine and Pat rent full time accommodation on this lovely 10-acre waterfront parcel in Miner’s Bay, Mayne Island, and this is where I’ve had my little biz – Shavasana Gallery & Café – for the past 11 years. It’s become a long labyrinthian story so I’m going to try and make it short. There are 4 owners of this property – 2 couples – who are not on good terms. One couple are supportive of we tenants and have no interest (currently) in selling. The other couple wish to sell their “Half/Undivided Interest” for $4 million…about 4 times the assessed value. In so doing, they have applied pressure on all parties involved (tenants and other owners). We are trying to remain optimistic and to fight the good fight but the wolves are at the door.🙏
Wait! there’s more!
The Weird, The Surprising & The Funny:
The weird:We (Mayne Island & Shavasana Gallery)had a visit this summer by a mystical wanderer, named Joseph, who travelled around in a beat-up grey car festooned with graffiti, assorted fabrics, branches & “found items”. He arrived at my place bearded & barefoot like a latter day Sadhu, and spoke in an almost imperceptible whisper (until I saw him chatting freely on his iPad Mini). I was OK with his presence, but others were not as welcoming and there was a sense that he was encouraged to “move on”…the final sightings of Joseph were at the Ferry Terminus (with someones’ boat on his roof) and then in Downtown Vancouver on Davie Street (pictured); The Surprising: recently a friend came into Shavasana and asked me if I knew that a fairly well-known island artist – Ian McLeod – had painted my image on a painting accompanied by 5 other Mayne Islanders – I hadn’t, so was surprised and delighted to see my stylized cartoonish red-head appear mid-right on the painting with Mike Nadeau, Al Sharma, Rudy Dearden & two other mystery islanders; The Funny: Despite everything & everybody, my sense of humour is intact, and for this I’m extremely grateful (not everybody is) I saw these two headlines recently – almost side by side – on my Guardian news App: “Earth’s Vital Signs show Humanity’s Future in Balance, say Climate Experts” (with possibility of Societal Collapse) next to, “No Matter How Hard he Tries, my Boyfriend Can’t Find my G-Spot”…please help me…I can’t decide which one to worry about more – but I do hope the boyfriend finds her G-Spot before societal collapse…that would be tragic🤣
Stay well, appreciate the good, tolerate the bad, and may your ugly be few and far between🙏
We are joined by Barry on saxophone, and a fellow on drums (whose name I have forgotten). Despite playing this song for over 40 years – I still need a song sheet in front of me 😆
I love playing with Jim and Gail, and it was a true delight having Barry & the drummer join us for this tune. Despite the sad nature of the event, it was an evening of fabulous music (in honour of Al who was a stellar guitarist), and we even drew some people onto the dance floor. Got 5 minutes – have a listen.👂
I’m going to be reading from my new book “All Roads at Any Time” this Friday May 24 from 2pm until about 3:30pm, at Shavasana Gallery & Café on Mayne Island.
I’m planning on reading one story from my book**, then taking a short break to give everyone a chance to grab a coffee or tea while I field any questions that may arise.
Following this, I’d like to read a new short story that I wrote recently called, “The Panic Attack” which will – hopefully – make it’s way into Volume 2 – the follow-up book of story stories that I am currently working on. After this we’ll stop for a little Q & A session.
As a self-published author I can also field any questions that the audience may have about the self-publishing process and what to expect after that…writing and publishing are – as I am discovering – the first 2 steps in a rather long and circuitous journey (but…it’s worth it! 😅)
**a little follow up addendum to this announcement. Both readings were recorded by Mayne Island TV, here’s the first reading:
Two young long-haired travellers arrive in Amsterdam in 1973. One of them, hopes and prays that the rest of his “round the world adventure” will improve over “day one”…it can only get better! Or can it?
It just dawned on me, recently, that I haven’t fed this Clay and Bone website for a while – last November to be precise when I did a wee article on my newest mask “Pandemic Pan”. For those of you who do receive my Blog/Journal posts on Clay and Bone, you are probably also aware that this site is inextricably connected to things I post on www.shavasana.ca which is the site for my Gallery Café on Mayne Island. Shavasana Gallery also serves as my creative studio when I am inclined to make a mask, or do a little painting, or some writing…or embark on some other creative project. It’s also where I exhibit all of my unsold masks & paintings, or, hold exhibits for other artists.
The primary reason I haven’t been posting on Clay and Bone is because I have a new Podcast project called “The Accidental Curator”, https://www.theaccidentalcurator.ca/ which was launched last November, and has been occupying most (if not all) of my creative energy, and will help to explain my absence from this site. Most people who receive Shavasana Gallery posts are aware of this project because I have included information and links about it on that site and also on my Shavasana Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/shavasanaartgallery . Unfortunately I’m not sure who’s receiving, liking, following, or subscribing to any of my four sites so I apologize if this current info is already known to you…I don’t want you to suffer from “George Overkill” 😆
If, on the other hand, you are bemused and intrigued by my new Podcast Project announcement and are thinking, “Hmm, sounds very compelling…I’m intrigued, please tell me more” Well, here is the premise:
“Have you ever wanted to leave your job and pursue a simpler life? I did. An intimate glimpse into small island living and community life through the eyes of a Gallery Café owner, artist and writer. This sublime adventure brought healing, growth and new challenges, for our tragicomic play is never quite so simple. Join me for short stories, and interviews with island creatives, activists & other heart-centric denizens.“
As of this writing – March 4, 2021 – I have published 4 episodes and am working on my 5th which I hope to have recorded and published within the next week. From a strictly creative perspective the Pandemic has been both a blessing and a curse. Covid-19 has shut down my Gallery and made travelling to my studio quite awkward, thus liberating my time for additional projects like The Accidental Curator podcast. Emotionally though, it has also been a huge drain and a worry which – on occasion – has been an energy-sucking motivational Muse kill. As my heart has been more into writing these last few years, I have a body of short stories from Clay and Bone and Shavasana Gallery which will make their way into the new podcast in an audio format, I will be doing some interviews, and I have an intention to write some Semi-Autobiographical Fiction which will also wind up there.
So, I haven’t disappeared, I’m actually quite busy and looking forward to the evolution of any of these endeavours. If you’re a fan of podcasts and are interested in checking out what I’ve done, you can either go to this link https://www.theaccidentalcurator.ca/ (as mentioned above) which takes you to the Podbean Host, or , you can go to either Directory: Apple (iTunes) Podcasts or Google Podcasts and do a search for The Accidental Curator.
I hope that you and your loved ones are staying safe & well during this time.
Rule # 1 – just because you have one injury doesn’t mean you can’t have another
Rule # 2 – just because you have two injuries, doesn’t mean you can’t have a third
I know that these are contentious times but can we all agree at least, that Holly Trees are malevolent and dangerous beasts? From their poisonous red berries to their skin-piercing needle-festooned leaves they are a menace for all seasons. They seem to grow incessantly and beyond reason, and if you are one of the unfortunates – like myself – that has two of them in his yard, you will inevitably be called upon to tame their unwelcome expansion through pruning.
The offending beast
I don’t think I’m a particularly accident prone guy, but, those who know me well may agree that I lack a certain amount of caution and forethought. I sometimes take risks – wittingly or unwittingly – and don’t always preface my activities through the filter of self-preservation.
And I’m not bereft of tools, being quite well-equipped for the job of pruning…I’ve got Pruning Shears, Bypass Lopper, Saws, Hedge Shears and even an 8’ Pole Pruner…and of course, for the task of fighting with my Holly Tree, heavy leather work gloves. As it turned out, the only thing I was really lacking on this day was… Safety Goggles.
Rule # 3 – Never try and prune a Holly Tree without Safety Goggles
You get where I’m going with this, right? It was Sunday, Father’s Day in fact, when I found myself – without Safety Goggles – standing on a chair, stretching to prune branches over my head…not a good idea. A cautious, safety oriented person would have – while wearing protective eyewear – switched to a ladder to be able to prune above the falling branches thus avoiding potential injury. Not I, or should I say, not eye?
The falling holly branch scraped across my eye on it’s way to the ground leaving me with what is known as a Corneal Abrasion. On a scale of 1 to 10, the pain was about a 7, but of greater concern was an immediate reduction in vision by about 50%. The eye closes involuntarily and through the tears, painful blinking and blurred vision I knew that the bad haircut I’d given the Holly Tree would have to wait …”OK fucker, you win this one, but even if I have to finish this job looking like a pirate with one eye, I’ll be back!”
With my one good eye, I went inside and consulted Mr. Google to see what I should do – hoping to avoid Doctors… on a Sunday…during a Pandemic…on Father’s Day. But no, beyond a little rinse in Saline solution, the risks – blindness – were too great and a trip to emergency was in order, where I expected to see a room full of hapless Dads, bleeding and broken from their various ill conceived yard duties.
As I was unable to drive, my lovely partner Cathy volunteered to be my ambulance and risk-management adviser, reminding me – once again – of the benefits of precaution. I promised I would heed her good advice.
At Emergency, it turns out that bleeders, strokes and organ failures get fast tracked through “Emergency Room A” whereas those who are just broken and in pain – like myself – get put into “Emergency Room B”…with it’s lengthy waits. We are there to endure and build character.
Emergency Room “B” at VGH…patient patients
After my obligatory four and a half hour wait I was able to consult with a specialist who informed me, while looking deep into my eye –and my soul – that my injury was not very bad and should slowly heal over the coming weeks. “It’s a rather small scratch Mr. Bathgate, you’ll be fine, here are some drops” It’s all I really wanted to hear, even though it still felt like my eye had been slashed with a bayonet. The next day I went and bought Safety Goggles.
Despite my ongoing discomfort (mild pain, blurred vision and an eye that wouldn’t stop blinking and weeping) I needed to get over to Mayne Island to work on my Gallery, which had been shut since October. The yard was an overrun mess of waist-high grass, weed families, and a long-neglected California Lilac that was in dire need of…pruning…I stuffed my Safety Goggles into my back pack, and made my way via public transit to the ferry.
The lovely California Lilac
Due to the Covid-19 Pandemic, my Gallery/Café will likely remain closed for the season. Where I would have normally done all my spring-cleaning, gardening and preparatory work in March and April for a May opening, I only started to make tentative forays to Mayne Island in mid to late June. The extra 3 month absence has allowed my yard flora to run riot and I have my work cut out for me. This is good as it gives me focus and a sense of productivity as I self-isolate on Mayne.
Rule # 4 – You can never wear enough protective gear to prevent all possible injuries
The California Lilac is a beautiful bush and the bees love it. I love it and I love the bees. It has grown considerably since last year, gaining height and breadth to give us a beautiful display of its fragrant, buzzing, blue flowers. It seems to allow its lower branches to die out, creating a canopy of support for the upper display, and has gained enough width to prevent us from accessing our path into the back yard without ducking. It is this barrier, and the tangled mess of dead branches which I have to tackle…luckily I have my Protective Eyewear.
Crouching under the Lilac to gain access to the dead branches, sometimes on my hands and knees, puts me in some pretzel-like yogic positions for pruning. Although I’ve got my protective eyewear, my injured eye is still weepy and not giving me clarity of vision…and here, on Mayne, I don’t have the complete contingent of tools…all I have are pruning shears, which are like pliers… with sharp blades. It’s all going well until I encounter a rather thick branch which requires two hands to apply enough pressure to make the cut. Where’s a Bypass Lopper when you need one? While exerting maximum pressure, my thumb slipped into the crushing/pinching fulcrum as the cut was made and I gave myself a nasty blood blister.
Not my thumb, a gift from Mr Google, but gives the general idea
Swearing comes fairly naturally at these moments…I’m under the bush with my weepy damaged eye, holding my injured hand between my legs with my teeth clenched going f…u…c…k! It hurts but I know the drill, I’ve had these before, all you can do is wait, grimace, and clench your teeth…the pain will subside in 5 or 10 minutes. Some choose to lance the blister to let the blood and pressure out – and I may do this later – but at this moment I’m looking at piles of pruned dead branch debris thinking, “OK…I can do this…I’ll just clean up this mess and then wrap up for the day and have a look at my wound”.
I start to gather up handfuls of dead branches and ponder where I’m going to toss them. It’s a 10 acre parcel of land and we don’t have an official burn pile so I decide to throw the organic material into the bushes. All I have to do is wander through a small patch of innocuous-looking waist high plants to chuck my load.
Rule # 5 – Know what poisonous plants thrive in your region – avoid them
There are two kinds of people in this world – those that recognize Stinging Nettles and avoid them and those that don’t and suffer accordingly – I fall into the latter category. Maybe if I hadn’t been wearing shorts and sandles it wouldn’t have been so bad. I’d never had an encounter with Stinging Nettles before and, it truly is, an unforgettable experience. By the time I was 10 feet into the patch I knew something was seriously wrong…my legs were on fire and, as a novice to this problem, it took me a moment to understand my plight and make a plan of escape. The pain was so great it dwarfed my earlier injuries, but all I could do was ditch my armload of debris, turn around and rush back the way I’d come, adding further injury.
Stinging Nettle – I know…they look so innocuous…
The Stinging Nettle is covered with thousands of filaments that pierce the skin of the unwary and inject poisons that result in burning, itching painful sensations. Hundreds of mosquito-bite like blisters form on the exposed skin and even with washing can remain with the victim for up to 18 hours.
More pics from Mr Google…I was too busy suffering to do a selfie
I felt like I’d just experienced medieval torture with my nasty thumb pinch followed in such short order with my blistered burning legs. I was reminded of Ving Rhames as Marcellus Wallace in Pulp Fiction when he asked his homies to “bring pliers and a blowtorch” to deal out rough justice to his hillbilly tormentors.
Bruce Willis & Ving Rhames in “Pulp Fiction”
Luckily I have a sense of humor and was able to sit back with my damaged eye, blistered thumb, and ravaged legs and laugh…at myself and unforeseen circumstances. And, due to “The Rule of 3” (not to be confused with Rule # 3 above) from the Latin phrase “omne trium perfectum” everything that comes in threes is perfect, or, every set of three is complete…I’d had my three perfect accidents and was now complete – I was safe from further harm.
The rewards of running a Gallery Café on a small island are not always financial…as I think about it, in my own case, they’re not financial at all, because I really don’t make a lot of money at this gig. What the Art Gallery Café may lack in remuneration though is more than compensated…well, mitigated perhaps…by a depth & breadth of experience that I have come to cherish…tolerate…endure…and fear.
Mostly it’s been good…fabulous actually…how can you not love it when friends and neighbours drop in with fresh baked scones and home-made preserves just out of a spirit of generosity. It’s a very giving community and I’ve been the happy recipient of so much largesse…food of all sorts: smoked salmon, various teas and coffees, baked goods of all kinds, numerous bouquets of flowers, award winning sunflowers, canned items from homegrown gardens, and perhaps one of my favourites, the friends who showed up with an entire ice-cream maker full of freshly made blackberry ice cream…God that was good, perhaps the best ice cream I’d ever dipped my spoon into.
And the fearful? Well, at the moment the bucket of ice cream scares me as I try and shed 20 pounds after my winter excesses. All kidding aside though…it’s people. When you run a retail operation, as I do, it’s a public space open to all, and you never know who is going to walk through the front door. I’ve been fortunate, I know, as I can safely say that 99%+ of those who have graced my Gallery with their presence have been kind, funny, happy, bright and engaging.
And the <1% ?…mostly a garden variety of quirky individuals whom we all encounter from time to time who trigger our awareness mechanism in a way that speaks of unpredictability. We know that our ability to communicate and understand might be challenged and may try our patience. But these individuals are – ultimately – harmless and wander off on their quixotic journeys. Then there are the in-your-face recovering drug addicts who generate wariness and, of course, the irritating drunks who wander in eliciting anger, wariness and thoughts of self defence…
….and then there’s Colin*. Colin was the “1 in a 1,000” deeply troubled individual who walked in one fine spring morning and stayed for a year and a half. I’m not going to go into detail but suffice it to say that Colin’s depth of personal pain had created a malevolence filled with hair-trigger anger, paranoia and threats of violence which I became privy to on an almost daily basis. His appearance, and my exposure to his toxicity made me seriously consider closing my shop…and then, one day, he was gone!
The experiences I have come to value the most (next to buckets of ice-cream) are those which feel unique and fresh and unlike anything I’ve previously encountered. Situations or events which arouse my sense of the absurd….friends who drop in by horse, performance artists appearing with giant puppets, phone calls to help move a giant pot-bellied pig to a Church Fair, a friend showing up with a truckful of retrievers, a hunter coming in with a bag full of bloody deer hooves for “my art”, and, one of my faves, an elderly friend dropping off her late husbands collection of retro leatherwork magazines which I’ve captured in this short video “Adventures in Leather”
“Adventures in Leather”
The magazines went to a good home as I decided against a new career in leatherwork. The adventure – now in its sixth year – continues 🙂
*Colin is the name I have given to “He who shall remain nameless”…
Shortly after I returned to Vancouver, in late May of 2013, I called the landlord to find out more about the situation on Mayne, ask questions, and gather a bit of info. The building was indeed zoned commercial/residential which covered my need for accommodation on the island and gave me the possibility of opening a little business, making a little cash, and having a cool project to work on. It was a 10 acre waterfront parcel, with four additional cottages that were rented out either long-term, or for summer vacation rental. John Collinson, one of the original settlers from the mid-1800’s is buried on the property with his first nations wife, several ill-fated children, and reputedly has, growing on it, the oldest apple trees in BC – making this particular piece of land significant from a heritage perspective. Ideas for a business, although unformed as yet, were germinating. What could I do there? As I was completely bereft of skills, talents, aptitudes or business acumen my first thought was…artist studio. As I was also – at the time – completely devoid of motivation, drive, or work ethic my other embryonic idea was “self-serve coffee bar”…these two ideas would have to fall into bed together and germinate further so I could convince the landlord that I actually had a business plan, and was not just another flaky guy wanting to open up an …Art Studio Café. 🙂 I arranged to meet Dave the landlord back on Mayne in early June for mutual reassurance.
As I re-read my Journal during the early days of this exploration I am struck by two things: my wide-eyed interpretation of simple encounters as a kind of magical projection of wonderment (a woman carrying a basket of cilantro down a dusty country road would take on almost mystic qualities) and; the ongoing internal struggle between the two halves of my psyche as I weighed the pros and cons of this decision…uncertainty vs. impulsive commitment, indecision vs. strong desire, – I was having a dialogue with myself on the pages of my Journal as I sorted out my internal tendency to overthink. Problems vs possibilities…I quite literally rejected the whole concept three times before I would ultimately commit. Blessedly, magic & visceral pull would eventually win out over fear and indecisiveness…but we’re not there yet.
The June 12 meeting with Dave went well. As it turned out we had worked together as young guys in the 70’s, so there was a decent cordial recollection of being work chums from another era. Even this diminishes some of the misgivings and creates hints of inevitability. I managed to get inside the space, take some measurements and do some imaginings of what it may become under my tutelage. The cottage is petite…around 600 sq.feet with a cool front porch & ground level rancher-style access. The windows are plentiful heritage multi-plane with tons of light and stellar site lines. The best view is of Galiano Island and Active Pass through which all of the regional ferry traffic travels. The kitchen and bathroom are small but adequate, and, as an out-of-town part-time dwelling it works magnificently for my needs. It’s suitability as a business though, will be determined by the appropriateness of my ideas and the efficacy of “my plan”…(which does not yet exist, although Mr. Journal gives an early indicator of “art – cycle – website – sculpture – café – thing”…I’m good at vague.
As these are my early days exploring Mayne Island, I was still in need of further convincing that this place had what I was in need of ….what I was searching for – serenity & the muse. Although Dave’s commercial property had incredible appeal and seemed perfectly suited to my “vision dream” I needed to unearth the tranquility and unleash “the muse” – that almost indecipherable thing that would allow creative passions to flow.
After years of urban cacophony and living a life that had been turned up to “11” I was in serious need of chillout. The difference between Vancouver and Mayne is vast. Although they are only 30 kilometres and a short ferry ride apart, the sense of decompression one gets upon disembarking from the ferry onto this idyllic rock is immediate. Things slow down, noises abate, enclaves of bliss abound and circadian rhythms tap you gently on the shoulder to remind you when it’s time to eat, or whisper in your ear “lights out…time to shut ‘er down for the day”. Beaches on warm summer days offer moments of sublime delight…the sounds of happy children discovering the magic of oceanside play, while dogs run in slo-mo after tossed frisbees, bathed in a golden light while gentle breezes blow and the tides lap. Forest trails and favourite mountain vistas can provide similar moments of calm and beauty. Climbing the local peak and sourcing out a secluded spot with equal parts sun-generated warmth and the serenade of trees and birds is a fabulous way to meditate. OK….tranquility – check.
Despite my earlier indecisiveness and waffling, I knew from the moment that I saw Dave’s little commercial cottage that this quirky setting would provide a perfect tableau to unleash the creative inspirations which had been bottled up inside of me for some time. Whether suppressed or dormant, they were ready to come forth. My muse needed irony and diversity, and a boatload of new and unique experiences which the Gallery – Studio – Café , and life on Mayne Island would provide in spades. What tragedy and hard drinking had squelched, sobriety, stimulus, serendipity and synchronicity let flourish. Writing the script and setting the stage for this new play, unleashed some hidden talents, and gave creative energy to new roles I would be required to perform. As a creative generalist, they would be many….finding one’s Muse – check.
Despite the seeming perfection of Mayne Island and Dave’s little cottage business for my needs, my indecisiveness dies hard and I needed to return to Vancouver for further pondering, worry and excessive pensive thinking. In fairness to Dave, as the weeks slipped by and I’d not come to a firm decision, I called him to remove myself as a potential candidate for occupancy…but I couldn’t get the islands or the place out of my thoughts so I planned another trip in early July to do a final round-robin of my favourite island contenders…Saturna, Pender and Mayne. Unlike Goldilocks, I have to test each bowl of porridge several times.
After a year without wheels, I am back on the road and it does feel good. Liberating. I use my van as a camper when I am on these road trips for the convenience of being able to pull over and sleep anywhere on these accomodation-challenged islands…especially in summertime. I love all of these islands, and they each have something unique to offer, “They all have their own personality”, as they say. I start with Saturna, as it is the most remote, and will work my way back. Saturna is gorgeous and was one of my first considerations but is sparsely populated (300 people) and consequently is lacking in some key amenities. Pender is also stunning but the cycling felt so-so and I’m not fond of some of the turns their development have taken. Each island will dish out serenity and stunning vistas by the truckload, but there was only one “Dave’s Cottage”… And that was on Mayne.
Fortunately, when I returned on July 8 it was still vacant and beckoning – just like that girl I dated in high school. And the island was still dishing out its charms, despite, or perhaps because of, the uptick in people enjoying their summer vacation activities. Perfect days happen and for me, here, they occur with regularity.
It was on this trip that the ideas for the business were congealing and here that I first made reference to the “Shavasana* Chillout Project”, and also germinated the name I would give to my mask making activities, “Clay and Bone”www.clayandbone.com . My thoughts, creative energy and focus were now being absorbed by this looming commitment. It seemed there was no turning back, so, a few days later I called Dave to tell him I definitely wanted it and was ready to commit. The next day I awoke with serious apprehension & “buyers remorse” … I felt like bailing on the whole project.
But I didn’t. I continued my decision struggle debate internally and within the pages of my Journal…“march forward…explore…evolve..learn”, I exhorted myself, “this project may provide the necessary “raison d’etre” to boost creative energies & passions”…I said, and that I would “need to get in the correct mind space” I told myself, so I could “experiment with the place as an incubator for: website development, writing, creative space, playground, business, & the experience of living in a small community on an island”. I obviously required a lot of convincing, which only I was capable of doing. The two halves of my Gemini brain were fighting it out. And finally, from the Journal, “if not this, what?”. The desire to end the search and begin the creative work was strong – I called Dave to meet up on Mayne and sign the lease…I would reject the place one last time before the ink was dry.
It was all set. I was to meet Dave back on Mayne, the August 1st long weekend to sign the lease and take possession. As friends were vacationing there I came over a day early to hang out with them. Dave had given me keys to the place so I could show it to my friends and also stay there for a couple of nights. As we were all about to walk into the cottage, my soon-to-be new neighbour Billie came over and awkwardly injected herself into our group…acting, I suppose as an unexpected and uninvited “tour guide”. Unbeknownst to me, Billie was also the de facto caretaker, cleaning lady and security guard for the property – and also had a bunch of her stuff stored there for the interim. She was also exhibiting – as I would eventually find out – some old fashioned “island familiarity” (not to be confused with nosiness 🙂 ) which we city folk were just plain unaccustomed to. In a word – it was weird.
And of course, my friends, over dinner après, had to remind me of this and embellish upon it – they were British after all. “She likes you you know”…“She’ll be over all the time”…“It’ll be like Kathy Bates in the movie Misery”…“She’s going to break in and tie you to your bed” and on, and on…..and on. All in good fun.
As I retired back to the cottage for the evening, the clouds had rolled in, the wind had picked up and there was a hint of rain – it was a dark and stormy night. As I got ready for bed, there was a sharp rap on the front window “Who is it?”, I quailed, “It’s me, Billie…your next door neighbour” With trepidation I flung open the curtains and there she was, face inches from the window, wearing a bike light on her ever-present safari hat, “It’s blowing pretty hard out tonight” she said, “sometimes we have power outages and you might need…candles!” She raised aloft a couple of candles in each hand. As I absorbed this apparition I said, “Uuuuh…I think I’m good Billie…I have a flashlight – thanks though” The Brits were right…it was going to be a nightmare.
This thought stuck with me overnight. It wasn’t going to be a relaxing & chill experience…I was going to be pestered, hounded, and it would not be good. I’d be trapped in awkward encounters…badgered by Billie…I’d have to bail. Which I did. I saw Dave for breakfast at the bakery the next morning and – rather than sign a leasing agreement – explained my apprehension, and, once again, rejected the property. He completely understood. The deal was off.
We shook hands, I left, and went for a long walk in the woods and down to one my favourite beaches, and sat there, staring at Mt. Baker. And then I had an epiphany – there are going to be problems, difficulties, wherever you go. There is no escaping them. They are opportunities for growth, and need to be confronted – gently – and dealt with. I can handle this, I told myself, try it for a year and if you don’t like it you can move on. I reconnected with Dave and explained my change of heart. Once again, because Dave is a good guy, he completely understood. We met up and I signed the lease for one year…this time, I let the ink dry.
PostScript: Billie and I have since become friends and good neighbours. She’s big hearted, generous and kind. We look out for one another…and she’s right – it’s always good to keep a supply of candles handy for those blustery nights when the power can go off. I had found Shavasana.
*Shavasana is two Sanskrit words: Shava (शव, Śava) meaning “corpse”, and Asana (आसन, Āsana) meaning “posture” or “pose” and is the last position in Yoga – considered by some, to be the most important part of Yoga practice. Lying on one’s back with arms and legs splayed out, eyes closed and breathing deeply, Shavasana is intended to integrate one’s Yoga practice and rejuvenate body, mind and spirit. Although I would eventually use this Yogic term as a playful name for my Art Gallery/Café on Mayne Island, it was also a metaphoric and tacit recognition of my personal need for rejuvenation & healing after many years of pain.
Clay & Bone 