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.

Same-Old

6 January 2026 – True, it’s a new year.

But the clinic doorway…

and the bus window…

both tell us:

it’s the same old weather!

“Merde! il pleut”

4 December 2025 – Years ago, standing in line on a soggy day, I read this lament on the umbrella in front of me.

Today, staring out my traffic-stalled bus window on an equally soggy day…

the words return to mind.

Present / Future Parks; Very Present Rain

25 November 2025 – In my bit of the Northern Hemisphere, November means lots of rain…

and seasonal criteria for “awesome.”

This year-round sign on the allotment fence in Tea Swamp Park invites us to adapt our eye, and enjoy what’s currently on offer. Rusty old leaves, for example, still clothing this shrub…

and shameless bare-naked deciduous trees…

dancing around in their bones.

Walking back north on Main, I pass a trio of parks-in-the-making.

A “permanent plaza” under construction, here at Main & 12th (yes folks, your tax dollars at work)…

with gravel being industriously moved from Here to There.

Farther north, the site at Broadway & Main that had lain razed and desolate behind mesh fencing ever since a triple-alarm fire gutted its buildings…

is now fence-free and adorned with bright, shiny-wet picnic tables.

Plus a smidge of new landscaping, along the southern edge.

I’m still thinking about that slightly surreal tableau when — crossing 7th & Main — I see something even more surreal:

No, not the mural, not Slim’s BBQ — the snowplow! What? A bright yellow snowplow fitted to the front of the truck behind that white car. Ready to take on the snow. In the rain.

One more future-park. With more tax-dollar signage.

Like the one down the street, it’s early stage, mostly gravel and hints of Things To Come, narrowly visible through fence post gaps.

I take advantage of the building opposite, for the roof-top perspective.

The rain, here in Rain City, blurs the view but the view still rewards the trip.

And that is quite enough rain! I retreat.

Drizzle, No Grizzle

18 October 2025 – A wonderful bit of British slang: the verb “to grizzle.” It describes the act of complaining or whining, at a low decibel level, but continuing on and on and forever-bloody-on. Which makes it such a lovely companion, in more than rhyme scheme, for the verb “to drizzle.” It describes the act of rain that falls at a low intensity level, but also continues on and on and forever-bloody-on.

This afternoon, for example.

I am equipped for the latter, and reject the former. — like most Vancouverites, I hasten to add. We know where we live.

Scotia Street seems an appropriate start for a drizzle-walk.

It overlaps with the final stretch of Brewery Creek, which, in the days when it had not yet been sewered, ran into the east end of False Creek, which had not yet been filled in.

Grey sky & low visibility along Scotia, but colours pop, both autumnal foliage and seasonal umbrellas.

Ditto the red truck marking the Red Truck Beer Company, down there where Scotia ends (or starts) at East 1st Avenue. Beyond the brewery yard, I can see dim outlines of the lowest level of the mountains to the north, but nothing higher up, only the drizzling sky.

The mountain peaks may be hiding, but not us Vancouverites. As I turn onto 1st Avenue, a stream of people erupts from the Crossfit BC doorway opposite, and starts pelting on down the street ahead of me.

By the time I’ve walked another block, I start meeting them on their return trip. Apparently this is just the warm-up for an indoor class.

I veer through False Creek Flats, filled in originally to provide land for railway-oriented industry and warehouses. The area is morphing into a new post-industrial life centred around digital media, clean technologies, medical research & the like, but the transformation is not complete. Sodden skies suit the still-gritty streets that lie beneath them.

Farther west, I twine my way first around the pollinator meadows lining the Ontario Street bioswale, where logs and their tiny fungi gleam brown and gold…

and then among the condos just off Quebec Street, where the gleam is metallic but equally appropriate. When could suit a fountain sculpture (Eyes On The Street, Marie Khouri & Charlotte Well) better, than a drizzling sky?

By the time I am walking along West 2nd Avenue…

I am prepared to concede that the sky is no longer drizzling. It is raining. Same visual impact — just look how that orange traffic light spills on down the street, bouncing from one puddle to the next — but damn, there’s nothing “low-level” about this.

(A passing woman & I grin at each other in mutual approval: we are each snug in waterproof clothing, and therefore spurn umbrellas.)

In Olympic Village Plaza, one of Myfanwy MacLeod’s The Birds sculptures tilts his stainless steel head to the elements…

Canada Geese bend their feathered heads to rich pickings in the grass (the mountains have now totally disappeared)…

and the cast-iron cycle of eggs/tadpoles/frogs on the storm sewer cover (Musqueam artists Susan Point and daughter Kelly Connell)…

is completely and perfectly at home in the dancing rain.

Meanwhile, the human beings at the street corner…

look distinctly less comfortable.

I am quite sufficiently comfortable, thank you, since only my outer layer is wet.

But, even so… I call it a day.

I may not grizzle, but I do know when I’ve had enough drizzle.

  • 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"

  • Recent Posts

  • Walk, Talk, Rock… B.C.-style

  • Post Categories

  • Archives

  • Blog Stats

    • 137,098 hits
  • Since 14 August 2014

    Flag Counter
  • Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 2,024 other subscribers