Daylight

1 January 2019 – I’m not thinking about “daylight” in any jargon sense, as I wander east through Mount Pleasant on 8th Avenue. I’m not thinking about daylight at all, beyond noting that today’s version is grey, and more dull than luminous.

But one thing leads to another, starting with my puzzling at this neat stencil on the sidewalk edge at an intersection.

I look around, see a traffic circle, see it has larger letters stencilled all around, move in to look.

Doesn’t get me much further. Thank you for the welcome, I think, but.. umm … to what?

I try the other side of the traffic circle.

Not as far ahead as I might have hoped… “Rainway”?

Aha, another sidewalk stencil.

Progress! All this has to do with St. George Creek — not that any creek is visible. Though, I now realize, I am at St. George Street.

There is a mud/rain-spattered sign fixed to the chainlink fence surrounding the adjacent school yard.

“Did you know a creek still flows beneath St. George Street?” it asks, and then describes the community-based project to honour the buried creek (te Statlew in the original Musqueam language) that once ran north from the Kingsway just above me right down to the False Creek Flats.

The sign invites me to notice all those salmon, painted by the schoolchildren, leaping along the fence. I do.

Later, a website dedicated to salmon in the cities tells me that more than 50 freshwater streams once ran through Vancouver, “like transit lines for wild salmon.”

The goal of this particular project, says its own Rainway website, is to use runoff from adjacent properties, laneways and the street to recreate the lost stream as part of a Rainway. It is to be an example of “daylighting” buried creeks and streams.

(You knew I’d get back to “daylight” eventually.)

The project is also meant to tie into the City’s goal of using our abundant rainwater to make us one of the world’s Greenest cities.

I’d like to be more optimistic, because everything about this project appeals to me — from community roots to public/private sector support to street art and infrastructure and environmental objectives. But it seems to have stalled somewhere around 2016. The signage is battered; none of the further steps projected on the website are visible.

I hope I’m wrong — and even if I’m right, the idea deserves new mention. It could rise again.

But oh dear, all this makes an unfortunate juxtaposition with the last scene I want to show you!

Doubling back toward home, I pass a couple of boarded-up bungalows, all fenced off, clearly soon to be razed for some higher-density infill. And, right there twined into the turquoise plastic fencing, are these words:

“Let it go.”

I don’t want the community to let go of their creek daylighting project, yet I do agree that, sometimes, letting go is exactly what we should be doing.

Perhaps especially right now, the start of a new year. Let go of everything toxic that has been hobbling us, just put it down, breathe freely, step forward more freely.

Maybe the trick, as always, is to know what to hold on to — a community creek project, for example — and what to let go. (Fill in the blanks for yourself.)

And that’s as philosophic as I’m going to get, late on this new year’s day.

So let’s let that go… and have ourselves a happy moment of fibre-art appreciation. Remember the flower next to the words “Let it go”? Like those words, it is crochet.

Aren’t you glad you know that?

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2 Comments

  1. Delightful as always, with that friendly, light-footed feeling I’ve come to expect. I was amazed by little ceramic plaques in the sidewalks about water quality and salmon that I saw in the cities (Seattle, Kirkland, Bellevue) when I moved out here. A far cry from New York streets. And that “Let it go” is interesting in that tear-down context. But who knows what the fiber graffiti artist had in mind anyway? Best to just apply it to whatever seems best to let go of, like you suggest. 🙂

    Reply
    • Restoring buried creeks is satisfying, because it is romantic as well as environmentally beneficial. Even plaques to note their buried routes seem something we owe them — you see quite a bit of that in Toronto, I’m still more familiar with it there than here. But you’re right, water quality and water routes are a big west-coast fascination.

      Reply

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