Light Travel and Time Travel (and the Flick of a Cat Tail)

29 December 2025 – It starts with a cat, not that the feline has any connection with our reasons for being on East 6th and poised to head north on Quebec.

But who could resist? I promise myself I’ll pursue that code once I’m home.

Meanwhile, on we go. On down Quebec St. to the water. We are en route the Village dock, about to make a two-ferry trip all the way west to the Maritime Museum dock.

Our goal isn’t even the Maritime Museum. Ferries are just the most delightful way to get ourselves to the Museum of Vancouver, out there in Vanier Park, for their twin exhibitions about chairs: Deep-Seated Histories (old chairs in their collection) and Future Makers (new chairs by Kwantlen Polytech students).

Light travel — reflections across the water — captures us before we even leave our home dock. Copper light, rippling its way south across the water.

Light travel + time travel: Jerry Pethick’s Time Top sculpture sends its own ripples southward as we pass the Cambie Bridge.

From one ferry to another at Granville Market, and soon we dock at the Maritime Museum — a free outdoor exhibit of vintage wooden vessels. And, not incidentally, home to the non-profit Oarlock & Sail Wooden Boat Club, housed in the floating Wooden Boat Shop.

More light travel, shimmering among the aged vessels (many wrapped against winter, but alas therefore incognito as well).

From light travel, back to time travel.

Barni-cycle!

It didn’t collect all those barnacles in just a day or two.

I add an extra layer of time travel + distance travel.

I bounce myself back years and back east to the Art Gallery of Ontario’s display of Simon Starling’s Infestation Piece (Musselled Moore). It shows what happens when first you make a faithful copy of Henry Moore’s Warrior With Shield, then you place it in Lake Ontario as an offering to zebra mussels for a few years, and finally haul it up again for display.

I shake that image out of my head, rejoin present time & place, and follow my friend to the MOV, where we meet another friend and all three of us go look at chairs.

They are twinned exhibits. First, as seen above, Deep-Seated Histories of vintage chairs with local connections. But even here I’m back to light travel. No longer light crossing water to create reflections; instead, light crossing air to create shadows.

(Above) Edward’s Razor Repair Shop Metal Chair, 1930; and (below) Peter’s ice Cream Parlour Stool, c. 1930.

Later, in the Future Makers exhibit, more light travel, more shadows.

This time, beneath the Kuma Chair, in homage to Japanese architect Kengo Kuma and the outside lobby of his Alberni building here in Vancouver. The chair, its signage tells us, explores negative space. I see shadows.

And then more walk-abouts, and then lunch at the splendid Melo Pâtisserie, and then home.

Where I look up the code for that cat show. And discover it took place on 25 August 2025.

More time travel!

3 x W

6 April 2025 – Three images from the last two days, and the subsequent discovery that all three dance to the letter “W.”

Water…

and Wood…

and Wall.

This one embodies a more complicated bit of alphabet than its companions. At the time, any designation would have been “S-for-shadow.” Because… well, look at it. Look how that boring wire-mesh fence throws filigree shadow on the rusted corrugated metal.

Even if we boot “S” to the sidelines, we can still applaud this image as a triple-W, all by itself.

Wall, check.

Also, Warehouse, check. The rusty metal covers a ramshackle old warehouse on False Creek South, one I’ve eyed with fascination for the last seven years, wondering whether entropy or the bulldozer would finally bring it down.

Turns out: bulldozer. The cheerful young City employee padlocking a bit of the security fence told us that yes, the building is about to be razed — but the wood will be saved.

W for wood!

“Inside this metal crap, it’s all old-growth timber. Old growth! Still in good shape. We’ll be taking it apart piece by piece, because the City plans to reassemble it as part of an industrial-heritage display.”

No, he didn’t know how soon, or where. We then grimaced our mutual recognition of the best-laid plans of mice, men and civic authorities.

Still! It’s W-for-wonderful.

(Says Walking Woman.)

Crisp to Calm

6 August 2024 — One day all crisp shadows down a local alley…

and the next, off to the “green calming atmosphere” promised in this sign welcoming visitors to Camosun Bog.

The bog is a tiny, boardwalked ecosystem at one north-east knob of sprawling Pacific Spirit Regional Park. I always choose the same entry point: south from West 16th Ave., down one final residential block of Camosun Street.

And here I am. I set foot on that entry stretch of boardwalk, and I am already calm.

Slower of pace, quieter of thought, I duck under an arch of Mountain Ash and walk around the bend beyond…

to pause at what I think of as “The Sentry” — a nurse stump adorned each season with whatever that season and its weather have to offer.

I next pause at the bog itself, now diminishing in the heat of mid-summer from its abundance of early spring.

Then, I follow the boardwalk.

The sphagnum mosses are beginning to bleach, responding to the same heat that shrinks the bog, but there are still bursts of vivid greenery.

Sometimes I need to peer over the inner railing of the boardwalk perimeter…

but any old time, I can just look over the outer railing at the forest beyond.

Loop complete, side trips complete, I retrace my steps to walk back under the arch of Mountain Ash. This time toward sidewalks, pavement, cars and traffic. Lots of grey awaits me. Lots of noise.

I’m not yet ready for West 16th! I walk eastward on quiet residential streets instead.

And I find myself at another tiny enclave of calm.

Right there, across that intersection, under those street-side trees: some Muskoka chairs grouped companionably around a little table.

I cross. I check it out. I discover that, just like the entry sign for Camosun Bog, the table welcomes visitors.

Though with an admonition.

I obey.

I take a seat. And when I depart, I leave the furniture where I found it.

  • 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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