Night Light

28 October 2026 – I leave the concert, and flow homeward on a current of light.

Traffic light, up from the street…

flare light, all around a café patio…

neon light, among the downtown towers…

and neon light, cuddling an East Van panda.

And then, and then, as the world continues to turn on its axis…

it becomes time for dawn light to bathe the city’s eastward face.

The Curtain Falls

24 October 2026 – I’m waiting for the red light to turn green, out there on a Kitsilano street corner, but, mostly, I’m admiring a flaming yellow-orange tree. This tree, ‘way over there on the right against the brick wall.

Red light turns green, away I go. Thinking, as I go, about green trees turning red.

All part of the seasonal shift, and I enjoy the added bonus of a pun: each fall (whenever it happens to be fall, in your hemisphere) the chlorophyll curtain falls… and all those other colours are finally on view.

Oh, the maple trees! A child of eastern Canada, I’m big on the bravura performance of our maple trees each fall. For good reason a red maple leaf is smack-central in our flag.

But, this year, I’ve started noticing other trees, other shrubs. I’m paying attention to the delicacy of their shade ranges, as chlorophyll drops away. I am amazed by what I start to see. (Isn’t that the way? First, you have to look. Then, you see.)

This, for example…

and this…

and this, my absolute favourite. Theme and variations.

Now that I’m paying attention…

Days later, seated at a bus stop in the east end of town, I idly glance backward through the glass. At first the view is an unprepossessing tangle of background gas pumps and foreground traffic bric-à-brac storage, including a white barricade. There is also a something-or-other wrapped around the barricade, and my idle gaze sharpens to interest.

No bus in sight. I have time to walk around the bus shelter for another angle.

I laugh out loud. Somebody (probably waiting for a bus, killing time) found a bit of construction warning tape, wound it around one end of the traffic barricade, and neatly inserted into it… one leaf, caught in its brief, bright moment of glory.

Well, of course somebody went to all that trouble. We do love the leaves of fall!

Mirror, Mirror

21 October 2026 – Almost a month ago, I stopped to admire (and invited you to admire) this shard of street-side mirror…

shimmering a hydro pole at us through the drizzle. Blurry, but brilliant.

Now that shard is the merest shardette, and the day showers us with sunshine not rain.

It is still a delight.

RIP

15 October 2026 – At a first quick glance, walking along East 10th, I think it’s just another Hallowe’en-themed front yard — the usual cliché cemetery.

Then I step closer, and realize we are being offered quite a different category of deaths.

and…

and…

and…

and…

and…

It’s enough…

to make an angel weep.

Mary & Sally & Seagulls & You

14 October 2026 – You could twist your tongue on the original chant…

or click here to learn more about its history (and about Mary & Sally) …

or you could just read the sign, and guard your chips.

Inside, Outside

6 October 2026 – In there, in the world of mani/pedi, a world of acrylics and gels…

there are no seasons.

Out here on the sidewalk, in a world of concrete but also of trees…

there are seasons.

Currently…

it is fall!

How To Love A Tree

2 October 2026 – But, first, how not to love a tree.

As practised by our City planners, for a very long time.

Namely: chop a hole in the sidewalk, stuff in a sapling…

and walk away.

Not surprisingly, trees do not much like this. They find ways to retaliate.

Roots rise up in protest, for example…

or just kick the sidewalk out of the way.

Well, oops.

City planners are finally paying attention. Now they try to treat those saplings with love.

They dig them into soil rampant with wonderful wild stuff…

and tuck them up with green watering bags.

Not only that, they encourage local residents to adopt them…

and care for them, throughout their critical early years.

Awww… the City has turned over a new leaf.

Rain & Shine

26 September 2026 – In comes the rain…

and up pops the shine.

The colours of ordinary street-side plantings that much richer, with their faces fresh-washed in the rain.

I pause on the south-east corner of East 7th and Scotia, with two of the area’s iconic buildings in eyesight — Main St. Brewing opposite and (to the right) the back of the stone-and-brick Brewery Creek Building at East 6th.

I’ll be heading that way, north on Scotia, but I’m momentarily distracted by the shine that is almost literally at my feet.

Even a discarded mirror fragment works magic, when it shimmers a hydro pole at us in blurry brilliance.

At East 6th, some magic that doesn’t depend on rain — though somehow rain makes its story all the more vivid, and all the more poignant.

This handsome bronze cairn reminds us that although rain now courses down a steep roadway, until early last century rain simply added yet more water to a tumbling creek: Brewery Creek.

We are where the maps says we are (in turquoise letters lower right): on the banks of the old creek. In 1897, it still ran free. Now it is underground. The buildings opposite are not the ones shown on this map — Vancouver Brewing and Thorpe & Co. — but they are direct successors. Main St. Brewing, uphill, is the artisan beer company now occupying the 1920s building that was originally a garage for Vancouver Breweries (the amalgamated version of the original brewery), and the Brewery Creek Building, opposite, went up in 1903 as an expansion to the Vancouver Breweries complex. This structure later went through a succession of uses, including candy factory…

before 21st-c. restoration and expansion transformed it into live/work spaces for artists.

The “brewery” tag was, and again is, apt. Early breweries made use of the creek; a collection of new boutique breweries makes use of that history. The whole area now preens itself under the collective label of Brewery Creek.

Another plaque takes us back to much earlier history — some three millennia back — and to those earlier uses of the watercourse and surrounding forests.

Kitty-corner to the plaque, the Native Education Centre it references, and its gardens.

My mind full of what used to be, imagining a creek to complement the rain, I walk on. Walk “downstream.” There is no visible creek, but there is real rain, and colours punched that much brighter as a result.

Including plastic colours, here at East 4th.

But I’m not focused on those tip-tilted chairs, I’m watching the horizontal black umbrella beyond the chairs (upper right). It belongs to a member of the coFood Garden Project that occupies this space, who is carefully shoulder-balancing it with one hand as he uses the other to wrest something out of the tree overhead. Branches interfere, I have no idea what he is doing. (Rescuing an injured bird? Snatching up some Spanish doubloons? Leaving a note for a secret lover?) There is suddenly a loud crack, he pulls his umbrella again vertical, and walks away. Mission presumably accomplished.

One last look north, watching water rivulets course downstream, again imagining a creek instead of pavement ..

and I turn to walk my way back upstream.

One final slight detour into a driveway, to admire one more example of shine in all this rain…

and at last I start thinking about dry indoors space and hot soup.

Alley Cats & Advocates

14 September 2026 – Late in the walk, both of them, one each for a two-part day.

Part One has me heading through Chinatown and back into the East Van neighbourhood of Strathcona. Since I’ll be attending an artist’s talk at the Paneficio Gallery on Keefer at Hawks, I walk my way in, all along Keefer from Main Street.

This taco truck stops me in my tracks just before Heatley Avenue. The big, bold colours and graphics, yes — but check the brand-name endorsements!

If the Blessed Virgin doesn’t convince you, maybe these guys will.

Next up, and almost immediately because it’s catty-corner from that truck: MacLean Park, and its giant notice board here at the north-west end. I read notices, impressed by the variety and fascinated by some of the names, the descriptions. This home repairs business, for e.g….

and this night club…

and… and… and I don’t know what this is.

I read it very carefully, right to the end, including the QR code instructions…

and it is then with some relief that I return to the physical, actual world.

I watch these musicians setting up for their free-concert gig in the park…

and, reassured by the normalcy of it all, cross back to the north side of Keefer and walk on.

Almost at the corner of Hawks, diagonally beyond that bicycle, there’s Paneficio, its bright façade dominating the street corner. The building is a complex of artists’ studios, living space and a small exhibition gallery. This is the last day of Yuri Arajs‘ show, Dust to Dust, and an impressive number of red dots mark the works that he discusses in his remarks.

Afterwards, I check the current offerings of what is surely the city’s sleekest little-free-library…

where a quick riffle through one of the books, Make My Curry! (New Indian Cuisine), by Uganda-born Vancouverite Sami Lalji, convinces me to scoop it up.

My south-west loop toward home takes me first through leaf litter on Hawks, bright with the golden tones of fall…

and then west on the alley between East Georgia & Union streets. Crisp shadows at my feet, seasonal reds and golds overhead into the distance.

No alley murals, just some tagging and (I say this with petulance) some scrawls. Sulk. I’m almost at Jackson, about to drop down to Union, when a garage door gives me reason to stop sulking and be happy again.

I know, I know, this is not terrific art. But they are cats, and they do have attitude. (And third eyes.)

So I make my way out to Main and back south with good humour restored.

The bus drops me just north of Broadway — and launches me on Part Two of my day.

Because this is Car-Free Day on Main Street (10th Av to King Edward)! The view south from the Main Street bus stop here at Broadway, aka 9th, draws me in. It is blissfully empty of vehicles and, a bit farther along, full of tents and people.

Tents on both sides of the street, a great jumble of foodstuffs, handcrafts, vintage and up-cycled clothing, pottery, jewellery, plants and veggies, and every kind of organization compatible with the neighbourhood and a “car-free” ethos.

The farther south I walk, the busier it gets, more and more adults, kids and leashed dogs, more and more ways for everyone to interact with each other and with all the offerings.

I watch two clever boys play chess…

I watch a cardboard pope smile gently while his human colleagues watch for opportunities to talk Roman Catholicism and St. Patrick’s Church with passersby.

I am definitely in Advocates Alley now.

Do you see the red and white COPE sign, just past the pope’s shoulder? COPE is one of the municipal political parties, gearing up for the 17 October civic elections here in Vancouver.

Next up, this duo: the sign on the right more obvious than the affiliation of the white-trousered, yellow-buttoned gentleman in the middle, who is trying to persuade the uncommitted listener on the left.

Sign on the right? You got it: the USA mid-term elections are coming up in November and Democrats, as always prior to an American election, want to pull in as many “abroad” votes as they can. Yellow-Button Man is with a very new party on the Vancouver civic scene called Vote Vancouver, and he is talking about our elections thank you, not theirs.

I accept a leaflet as i walk by… and then carry out my own act of advocacy.

I choose a bowl of traditional Himalayan steamed dumplings. This is only mid-September! I still have a whole month, to prep for my civic duty.

Surprise!

11 September 2026 – Time travel: you’re with me on 8 September, downtown, corner of West Georgia and Granville. I’m about to turn from the former onto the latter and notice that busy Granville is barricaded, although its sidewalks are open.

I complete the turn, expecting some kind of kerfuffle to justify the barricade — nothing major, since no sirens or emergency vehicles, but something.

I get something.

A great big metal apple, on a car-free street.

I’m surprised, but then, as I walk closer, no longer surprised. The apple fits right in.

Its reflection sparkles in Fatburger’s doorway, across the street…

and the apple itself sparkles even more, viewed from across the street.

It embraces the woman who just wants to read her book…

and it makes neighbourly conversation with skyscrapers and sky.

I walk south on this peaceful street, see some workers busy with an installation at the next corner, and ask, “Going up? Coming down?”

They give me a friendly but puzzled where-have-you-been face, and explain it’s all coming down. This stretch of Granville has been a Pedestrian Zone all summer long. As of tomorrow, the cars return.

Okay, I missed that one.

But I’m all set for Car-Free Day on Main Street, East 10th to King Edward, this very Sunday.

  • WALKING… & SEEING

    "Traveller, there is no path. Paths are made by walking" -- Antonio Machado (1875-1939)

    "The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes" -- Marcel Proust (1871-1922)

    "A city is a language, a repository of possibilities, and walking is the act of speaking that language, of selecting from those possibilities" -- Rebecca Solnit, "Wanderlust: A History of Walking"

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