31 March 2025 – Neither Zen nor any kind of dog is in my mind, as I step out the door into the fresh morning air.

My mind is perfectly happy with just the beginnings of a plan: walk to False Creek; take a ferry from Olympic Village to Granville Island; walk on west along the Seawall at least to Vanier Park, then head south into town, and then… Oh, never mind. Events will take over. As they do.

I’ll see what I see.

Vehicular back-chat in an alley, for starters…

followed by back-chat on a literal human back, as I near the Olympic Village dock on False Creek.

When I tell the cheerful young couple that I admire the image, the story gets even better. As he poses for my camera, he prompts her to take credit and explain. Turns out this is a line of jackets rightly called SwapWear, since — thanks to zippers and Velcro — you can swap out that back panel for additional choices. A changeable art gallery, right there on your back.

I walk off, much amused, to catch my ferry.

I’d’ve been even more amused had I known that — along with a Thoughtful Dog — more cat’s ears and more fish would become part of this walk as well.

But I don’t know that. And my Aquabus ride is quite enough to keep me up-energy and happy with the day.

Last time I was on Granville Island was February 20, when my post title summarized the experience: Off-Season Drizzle. Now the site is all warmth! and people! and signs everywhere that a new season has arrived.

Dragon boats are already in the water, with trainee crews digging in furiously as their trainers just as furiously shout instructions. Much more peacefully, racing sculls and kayaks are piled in colourful stacks at water’s edge.

I walk on, per my sort-of plan.

But not for very long.

I’m barely at the public fish market when detour signs send me inland. I had forgotten the mammoth construction project down there at water’s edge. Oops. Time to channel, yet again, the wisdom of a dear Toronto friend and co-founder of our two-woman Tuesday Walking Society. Every time we miscalculated and had to backtrack, she’d shrug. “We’re out for a walk,” she’d remind me. “It’s all walking.”

So I behave myself, navigate boring stretches that are nonetheless All Walking, and keep heading west, as close to the water as possible.

I am rewarded for all that good behaviour at the corner of West 1st and Burrard — just across the street from the point where (I’m pretty sure) I’ll be able to work my way down to the Seawall again. As I wait for the lights to change, I notice a little girl and her parents, also waiting.

I compliment her on her cat’s ears headband; we agree Cats Are The Best. She raises her hand, to show me the bouquet of flowers she has just picked. We further agree that Dandelions Are The Best. Red light turns green, and she scampers ahead toward Seaforth Peace Park, calling back as she goes: “Mummy! Look! More flowers!”

Her mum reminds her to pick only three, “and leave the rest for the bees and the birds.”

All this causes me to notice the chamomile blossoms scattered through the grass…

and also the craggy rock sculpture rising up from the grass. It is message-heavy.

First I read the plaque, describing this tribute by the Latin American community to the courage of their first wave of immigration (talk about the entangled nature of darkness and light)…

and then I read the incised recipe for Sopa Sur, “enjoyed all over Latin America.”

Iconic seafood soup, something I might not have discovered, but for a little girl with cat’s ears on her head.

(Is Sopa Sur part of your life? Have you comments, or a recipe to share? I’d love to hear.)

And then, yes, I do make my way back to the Seawall, and yes there are people and dogs and benches and blossoms and crows and gulls all around. And chamomile blossoms in the grass.

And, as I round the curve to the west end of Vanier Park, there is also the Blue Cabin…

the floating artist residency program, now moored in Heritage Harbour alongside the Vancouver Maritime Museum. On April 1st, it will welcome its first resident artist of the new season.

On round the next curve, on to Kitsilano Beach Park, where nobody is waiting for April first.

Dogs are in the water, or furiously chasing sticks. Humans are on the beach proper, though still well bundled up. The day may be warm, as early spring goes, but the temperature is only about 10C.

Then I see the one exception to all this prudent behaviour: a woman stripped to her bathing suit, explaining herself to a clearly amazed, and very fully clothed, passer-by.

Enough chat. Putting her body where her mouth was, she runs into the water and starts swimming.

I admire her, but I’m glad to be up here on the path. Where I also admire the beach volleyball net being slung into position.

It’s the last to go up, the other seven courts are already in full swing. (Full swing? I didn’t plan the pun, but let’s all enjoy it.)

Time for city sidewalks, I decide. I leave the park at its Cornwall St. border to head south on Yew. Smack on the corner, a combination I was not expecting.

It seems to work. I don’t know how many eyeglasses they’re selling, but the café end of things is doing a brisk trade.

Another unexpected combination, a few blocks farther south.

I finally meet the Thoughtful Dog!

Oh all right, Zen and dog are not woven into one package, not like the eyewear/espresso duo — but they are visually if not commercially paired, and that’s quite enough for me.

More city blocks, a break for lunch (avo-chicken sandwich plus butternut squash soup, yum), and after a while I’m on West 10th.

Here, near Hemlock, a fresh new camellia blossom showing all those buds how it’s done…

and here, at Birch, a lot of weary old skateboard tips,,,

that still provide, despite their age, a crisp, good-humoured edge to the volunteer-tended traffic circle and sidewalk gardens.

Just past Oak, I stop to take one last picture.

A couple of pedestrians pass behind me.

She says: “Canadian flags!”

He says: “Looks good, doesn’t it.”