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fleurcareil · 8 months

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Central Saskatchewan: Great Sand Hills, Sask. Landing and Manitou Beach

Driving from Alberta into Saskatchewan was immediately clear from the road condition; similar to driving from the Netherlands into Belgium, the way my car suddenly started rattling left no doubt I had crossed the border! 😂 The convoy of cars that I had been keeping up with also suddenly dissipated, so I was all alone on a crappy road in the middle of nowhere while dark clouds were brewing on the horizon - welcome to Saskatchewan! 🙃

Driving here (on older roads, they do also have top-notch new asphalt) gives the sensation of being drunk on a rolling boat 😝, constantly going up & down from left to right... there's actually no potholes but I'm guessing the asphalt's ability to withstand the cold winter might make it more ellastic so that it sags all over the place... on some stretches my head shaked so hard, I felt like a bobblehead! 🤣 (less good for my stomach though)

When I finally made a right turn after 245 km on the same road out of Drumheller, it was as I had suspected on a gravel road; I was now squarely back on the Prairies! 🤩 The gravel roads are in good condition (although the Manitoba ones are even better), but the loose gravel does mean I need to be more focused to stay in the tracks, so it's tiring and slower.

I didn't take many pictures of the scenery as it's exactly the same as when I drove westward through the province 😁 (albeit that was a more southern route than now on my return), so please check out my earlier blog if you're curious how the Prairies looks like, basically one field after another. I did include below pic of what-I-presume is a blooming wheat field, as it looked really golden! ☺

My first stop in Saskatchewan was at the Great Sand Hills near Spectre, where the cowboy way of life is idolized in a pretty stone mural and an arch of old (mostly falling apart) boots.

The sand hills are a remnant of glacial lake deposits, similar to the Spirit Sands I had hiked in southwest Manitoba. Where this used to be a vast expanse of moving sand dunes, most are now stabilized due to vegetation, so there's only a few truly sandy ones left over (which are expected to be gone by the end of the century). Despite them not being so high as I had expected - when driving along the flat fields, I had already been wondering why I didn't see them miles away - the reserve protects a small island of native prairie ecosystem in the middle of farmland so that makes them valuable just as they are!

During a little hike through the dunes, the only thing you could hear was the wind rustling through the bushes and the bellowing of cattle 😀 which was very relaxing until a cow family suddenly came directly my way! The male was looking at me while advancing towards me so not knowing what to expect, I backed off... turned out they really just wanted to walk over to another patch of grass behind me, so off they went over the dune. 😁

An hour further east, I checked in at Saskatchewan Landing provincial park on Lake Diefenbaker for a two-night stay. The lake is a massive 225km-long (almost as long as the Netherlandsb is wide! 😮) hydro reservoir that feels like an oasis after descending from the grasslands plateau, as it's green & lush with vegetation. It explained all the boat trailers I had seen driving on the dusty prairie roads which had felt really odd! 😅

I had wanted to capture the sunset but ended up talking at length to a Canadian-Belgian couple who recognized my accent 😀, so I missed the pretty pink colours but instead I did see a mesmerizing full moon! It had just been a few days that India had landed on the moon so it was special to consider that there's now a piece of that country so far away (I congratulated my Indian friends)! ☺

The next day, I had planned and indeed did absolutely nothing all day!! 🎉 As you'll have figured out by now, this is not something I do often (last time was at Kouchibouguac in New Brunswick over 2 months ago), but it was supposed to be a real summery hot day so was excited about getting to the beach.... it turned out to be only 22 degrees, cloudy and with a lot of wind so my beach-bumming did not completely work out as I had hoped 🤨 but still had a glorious day of basically sitting at the campsite, sitting at the beach (with clothes on) and then back to sitting at the campsite 😂

On the way to the beach though (a 2k drive to the other side of the lake), I had to pay my respects ofcourse to an old bison rubbing stone, and also checked out the viewpoint which really shows how the lake creates this green ribbon in an otherwise yellow-brown landscape, aka an oasis!

Having had such a long lazy day (including eating a delicious raspberry cheesecake icecream 🤗), I already had all the veggies prepped for roasting on the fire by 6pm (which is very early as I usually only set up camp by 7) but it felt a waste to start the fire when it was still light, so I ended up having a late dinner after all 😅. Over my beers, I came up with the idea that I could create my own cozy "virtual fireplace" video that I can play on my laptop on cold winter days... what do you think?!? 🤣🤣

The next day, the air felt different and when I walked over to the lake to watch the sunrise, it was confirmed; the smoke was back and the sun was really struggling to break through 😒. Too much wind to paddle so I left early hoping that things might be better elsewhere.

Same scenery as the day before 😜 (never boring though!), but I did capture one more "golden field" as example of the absolute nothingness... in a way, Labrador and the Prairies have this flat, monotone landscape in common despite their widely different geography, climate and ecosystems; that of Labrador is a sea of trees and here it's a sea of fields... In contrast, Québec, Ontario, BC and the other provinces have a much more varied landscape of ocean, lakes, mountains, forest AND fields.

When driving, the road oftentimes looked black from insects which I wasn't sure what they were (not flies luckily! 😅), until the gentleman at the gas station explained while cleaning my windows, that they're crickets eating grasshopper eggs... as it had been a dry summer, there were lots of grasshoppers and as a result the crickets had a bumper year, great example of prey-predator cycles! PS. Unfortunately a few miles after the gas station, there was a lengthy stretch of roadwork & gravel detours, so that meant RIP for my short-lived clean windows...

I found a few days later a cricket who had hitchhiked in my trunk, so he/she was quickly booted out when I saw it - I had already searched for whatever culprit snacked on my paper towel and was relieved it wasn't a mouse 😜.

The gas station was in the town of Outlook, and I must admit it took me a while to remember why it sounded so familiar... just shows how 3.5 months off work can undo a lifelong of using Microsoft email! 😅

But the real reason I took the picture of the sign was that for a long while these signs had perplexed me... when I had driven westbound into Saskatchewan from Manitoba the signs appeared, all with a "1" behind a name, and confusing them with city boundary ones that are typical in Europe it seemed as if each village was being numbered, e.g. Outlook 1, Outlook 2... which seemed such an odd thing to do (but Québec does have similarly numbered hydro dams & associated villages, e.g. Manic 1 to 5)! Only what must have been at the 20th sign or so, I realized that it indicated the next village 1km away 🤣🤣🤣 it took me a while to realize there was never going to be an Outlook 2... what can I say... my brain is also on a break!! 😅

Lastly, when driving around, the dry summer that the gas station guy had talked about was apparent in either completely or partially dry fens, the little ponds that dot the landscape and are a source of water for the farmers... the dried fens have different colours than the surrounding fields (white of salt or green for younger vegetation) which gave pretty visuals.

Having left early, I arrived just after noon at Manitou Beach which has as unique feature an extremely salty lake, 3 times the salt content of seawater, so that it's aptly referred to as Canada's Dead Sea! 😃 I had to try it ofcourse, and yes, swimming was basically impossible in the disgustingly salty water as each time I tried to go underwater, it would just push me up 😲... a really weird experience! Once I started to dry, my arms and legs turned white from the salt deposits so luckily there was a shower on the beach to rinse it off. It's a groundwater fed lake that through evaporation results in high salt concentrations, which are attributed to cure a whole list of diseases... as I tend to be covered in cuts and bruises, it was almost painful as the salt would sting all open wounds!

On my walk back to the campground, I admired the various wood carvings that were on display from a contest a few weeks ago... at it's an annual competition, the village is full of wood carvings including random ones of chimpansees, Belle & the Beast etc... there must be a theme each year?? This year it seemed related to Canadian nature (although not sure the stingray and turtle live here, maybe on BC's coast).

I really enjoyed the floating so I returned to the salty water, but then at the spa where it was heated, even better! 🤗 someone mentioned to me they come here every winter... if I would live nearby and had -40C winters, I would sign up for a membership in a heartbeat! There's noodles (as used in aquarobics) to help you balance in a vertical direction as the feet want to float up all the time 😜, or you can just lie back with your head onto a noodles and float away... Divine!

Topped off the evening with a cheeseburger & onion rings from the food stand on the beach and then a campfire with a s'more... oh la la, it feels so good spoiling yourself 🤩

Wildlife: 7 gophers, 1 deer, 1000+ crickets

SUPs: none

Hikes: one at Great Sand Hills

Distance driven from last map: 1,668km

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allofthebeanz · 15 days

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Heat Stroke for WIP Wednesday please!

Hello! Of course you can, thanks for being patient!

For some reason, the idea sends a shot of terror down Fraser’s spine. “Well…”

Ray braces his arm on the back of Fraser’s headrest, peering over his shoulder as he backs up out of the parking space. Fraser shivers as the sleeve of Ray’s blue hoodie brushes against the underside of his jaw.

“Diefenbaker,” he finishes hazily.

#wip wednesday #beanz writes #due south

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trustranking · 2 years

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Shimo licent

#Shimo licent series

In one cartoon, Brian Mulroney has a secret fetish for all things American. Her subjects are often long dead, yet they seem like real people, albeit with oversized personalities or embarrassing foibles. Rather than sticking to the facts, she imagines the inner lives of her characters, making them say things that sound modern, says John Martz, chair of the Canadian chapter of the National Cartoonists Society. Then again, if you know these subjects too well you might be irritated by her generous use of artistic licence. And if you’re not a history buff and don’t know, for instance, who Edwin Booth is, you probably won’t get all the jokes. from McDonald’s is a challenge, she says. Making history funny to people who don’t know their Sir John A. Beaton’s work is “delightful, funny and endearing even if I have no idea what in the world this crazy Canuck is referencing.” The otherness makes her “vaguely otherworldly,” says Seattle-based Larry Cruz, who writes reviews on the website, The Webcomic Overlook. Their reactions to (for them) unknown, obscure figures such as Wilfrid Laurier range from bemusement to gratitude for an introduction to a culture and history outside their own. If you’ve seen a Beaton comic, it might have been on the comics pages of the National Post, or perhaps through a link to her website, Although she has thousands of Canadian fans, the readers of her website are mainly American. Also, since she hasn’t yet drawn enough to fill a book, she doesn’t want to become “overwhelmed.” Still finding her feet, Beaton wants to find out more about the industry so she doesn’t get shortchanged. About 10 other agents and publishers have asked her to write a book, but so far she’s refused. In the little over a year she’s been doing the comics, her work has been talked about on the website Wonkette and in Bitch magazine a reviewer for Wired magazine called Beaton’s the “funniest comic that I’ve read in awhile.” Recently Daily Show writer Sam Means approached her to illustrate a children’s book he is writing. Originally from Cape Breton, Beaton is a Toronto-based cartoonist who has fans ranging from award-winning graphic novelists to geeky comic nerds.

#Shimo licent series

Pearson too nice to be prime minister? Was John Diefenbaker a mad, bug-eyed egotist? And was Pierre and Margaret Trudeau’s marital relationship a little like that of father and daughter? These are the sorts of questions 25-year-old Kate Beaton gently probes in her series of comics on Canadian history, which are unusual enough to have sparked the sort of praise most writers spend a lifetime cultivating. Your journey will be stress-free as long as you remember to keep an ear on local traffic news, and leave plenty of time to reach the airport.Was Lester B. There's no more panicking about missed connections: your hire car is ready when you are. With a hire car in Shimo-suwa you don't need to worry about getting to and from the airport. Hiring a car in Shimo-suwa opens up a whole world of possibilities, and takes the stress out of discovering new places. Drive into the countryside for a unique perspective on Shimo-suwa, visit a nearby town without any hassle, or simply enjoy the feeling of the open road beneath your tyres. Once you've seen all the top sights that Shimo-suwa has to offer, you can buckle up and go exploring. Whether you're looking for a cute convertible for a romantic break, a people carrier for a stag do, or a hatchback for a family trip, we'll show you the best available deals and help you to save money. Simply tell us the dates of your trip and we'll show you what cars are available from a range of car hire companies in Shimo-suwa. With Skyscanner you can choose the car you want, at a price you want. With our hotels in Shimo-suwa you can find and compare the best prices for hotels with parking, so both you and your hire car will have somewhere to stay. You don't need to get your head around any complicated public transport systems: simply jump in your hire car and go. You'll have to go through passport control and show the nice people at the car hire desk your driving licence too, of course, but you get the picture. It's as easy as reserving online, stepping off the plane, and driving off. Beat the crowds and make the most of your city break in Shimo-suwa by renting a car.

#Shimo licent

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delicatelysublimeforester · 2 years

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Invitation to you

YouTube Video about the Tree Planting Ceremony Sunday June 5 at 2:00 PM University Of Saskatchewan near the Diefenbaker Centre You are cordially invited to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of World Environment Day this Sunday. 50th anniversary of World Environment Day, 50th Birthday for Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area and George Genereux Urban Regional Park in Saskatoon, 100th…

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spyvstailor · 4 years

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Started a new novel, since I still feel weird releasing my zombie novel in the middle of a global pandemic. So, enjoy this free sneak peak at my prologue.

Coyote Flats had been built on 312 graves.

Not many people knew this, of course. If they did they wouldn't have moved to the small town when the boom hit in the early eighties.

Situated in a large basin at the bottom of a valley, Coyote Flats was farmland mostly. Canadian prairie grass grew at the top of the valley, the bottom of which was a large alkali salt plain where the creature for which the Flats was named roamed freely.

In 1978 a cattle farmer digging a well in the basin hit a piece of bone, digging up a mammoth in what would be the first of many late Pleistocene fauna.

That was the cause of the second boom of Coyote Flats.

Before that it was dried up and dead, had been since the thirties when the topsoil blew away from the rich earth at the top of the valley.

Now it was tourist town, small enough that it still had it's dignity. It wasn't trinkets and toys like some of the other dinosaur riddled small towns that dotted the prairies, but it still drew a crowd.

Seven thousand people resided within the Flats, half of that in the surrounding area, so it wasn't ever big, just big enough.

Within the town limits, past the Minnie the Mammoth statue by the highway sign, were homes built in the early eighties, peppered throughout with older homes. The front enclosed porch homes of 1912, the wide and squat bungalow homes of the 1920's and three large red bricked buildings in the centre, huddled around the park.

If one knew about the 312 buried beneath the Coyote Flats Park, then they would also know that McAllister Funeral Home to the east had always been a mortuary, that the Town Hall to the north was once a sanatorium where tuberculosis patients from all across the northern prairies went to seek medical help and rest, before ultimately dying of the white plague in the early days of the twentieth century and that St. Bernadine's Roman Catholic Church, in the south-west of the park had always been the church that offered sanctuary for the dying.

These buildings were the oldest in Coyote Flats.

The oldest residents, outside of the McAllister sisters themselves who lived in a turn of the century Victorian style home just east of the park, beside the funeral home that shared their name, though was never owned by them. No, these women, white witches teased by some, were members of the one of the oldest families in the Flats. Nearly a quarter of the town shared the name McAllister with them, though none were progenitors of these women as they were all single matrons, old maids as they were once called.

They lured both men and women, young and old, into their open home with the scent of sweets baking on a warm summer's eve, or the promise of good gossip, tea and maybe a home remedy or two.

When the wind blew from the south, they'd say, love will kiss thee on the mouth.

Oh Bonny Portmore, Charity McAllister, could be heard singing from their front porch on a quiet afternoon as she tended her window box flowers, I am sorry to see, such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree. For it stood on your shore for many a long day, til the long boats from Antrim came to float it away.

These women, tended to by their great grand-niece, granddaughter of their oldest sister Grace, may she rest in peace, were some of the only who knew about the 312.

Inside the brick building to the north, deep in the basement of the Town Hall, Eddie Hollander was another who knew of the 312. He knew because he worked the historical archives, he lived among papers and files and microfiche, he had gone to university to become a historian, only to be shoved down into the bowels of Coyote Flats where no one came, no one visited, no one seemed to care.

He lived, oddly enough, beside the McAllisters on Diefenbaker Avenue, just east of the park. From his front porch, as from the McAllister's, he saw the birch stand that separated the park from the rest of the world.

If he peered hard enough through the black and white trunks of the trees, he could see the back of St. Bernadine's. In the winter, he didn't have to peer much at all, the red brick building standing out against the white of the snow.

While the church became clear to see in the winter, the white marble angel behind it blended in.

She stood eight feet tall, eleven feet counting the pedestal beneath her sandaled feet, arms reaching out to the heavens in abject grief, wings spread tall and wide.

Anyone who knew about the 312, knew why this angel stood there behind the church. Those who didn't, assumed she was just some pretty piece of statuary in the park, confused, maybe, about why she stood behind the church and not in front of it or beside it.

But for as confused as people were about the placement of the white angel, they were just as confused about the black marble angel.

He knelt on his pedestal, about three hundred yards north from the church, backed by the birch stand that swooped in beside him and around to shield him from the bitter winds coming from the east and the north. The winds that brought visitors and storms, according to the McAllister sisters.

This angel was militant and vengeful looking.

His hood hid most of his features from the world, though anyone who really dared to peer into the shadows of the hood said he was sometimes disapproving, sometimes amused. With a sort of patrician nose in the classical style and piercing eyes carved into the cold stone, he was hunched on one knee, arm raised with a flaming sword in it, prepared for the kill. Wings spread intimidatingly or perhaps even in preparation for a flight into battle

He was frightening to children, threatening to men and abhorrent to women (though some would say he had an oddly thrilling charm about him).

Perhaps aware of this, the town council tried to beautify him somewhat, they planted wave petunias in a flowerbed at the base of his pedestal in the hopes of softening the threat.

He only seemed to drop his gaze to them in silent annoyance.

In the morning he was placid, almost smiling, by noon he was scowling, aggressive, before becoming a mild warrior of God once more in the evening.

Most didn't dare get close to him come nightfall, however. It just wasn't done.

No one entered the park at night, they didn't know why, they just knew it gave them odd feelings and sensations.

If you timed it just right, on a peaceful evening in mid-summer in Coyote Flats. Standing before the black angel with your back to him, gazing across the well trimmed grass to where the church stood shielding the white angel from MacKenzie-King Avenue in the west, you could be lucky enough to hear both Charity McAllister singing and the sound of a small town in the dying light of the sun. And you would forget, for a moment, the eerie feeling that crept upon you, standing in a park in the middle of Coyote Flats proper which was once a cemetery where 312 were buried.

#this is a chance for all my followers who post about supporting authors and creators to put their money where their mouths are #support me guys #need it #getting laid off from work #so i need to kick ass on this proper like and make some money from my writing #coyote flats #enjoy this free sneak peak #and if you do happen to like my work visit my actual tumblr page to donate to a struggling author #this has not been edited #lazy

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au-prompts · 7 years

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Donna Meagle and Diefenbaker in Covan 💀

#AU Prompts #Donna Meagle #Diefenbaker #Parks and Recreation #due South #Donna Meagle/Diefenbaker

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dailyoverview · 5 years

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Several jets are parked outside a hangar at the John G. Diefenbaker International Airport in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada. With two runways, nine passenger bridges and three ground-loading positions, the airport handles just under 1.5 million passengers per year. By contrast, the busiest airport in Canada (Toronto Pearson International) handles nearly 50 million passengers annually.

Instagram: https://bit.ly/2okZYZm

52.169389°, -106.681472°

Source imagery: Nearmap

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kootenaygoon · 3 years

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So,

He looked tanned.

Spencer took a luxurious drag on his Belmont, the ember exploding like a mini-supernova in his aviator sunglasses, and exhaled swirling spirits into the early morning mist of Diefenbaker Park. It was two days after Christmas and I’d left my pregnant wife and baby daughter at home to visit his memorial bench, the day after my sister died, and together we sat looking down at the central pond in the distance. I liked that he’d finally grown out his beard again, so that it had a scraggly surfer quality. The afterlife was agreeing with him.

I sighed. “The crazy thing is I’ve been grieving this shit for years, you know? Like I knew this could happen any time, any moment. And then the universe custom-designs this perfect French Exit for her. It was like it was staged,” I said, unpacking the one-gram pre-roll I’d picked up from Vancouver.

“Like think about this: Kristina went into labour on Kathryn’s birthday this year, then one day later Celista is born. Now she dies exactly nine months later, to the day. There’s some weird math there I can’t figure out.”

Spence smiled. “You’re always looking for the patterns.”

There was sweat collecting in my hairline. I’d gotten four hours of sleep, maybe, and I’d smoked half a pack of cigarettes. My family was circling the wagons hard, my other sister flying back from Belgium, and I was being inundated with social media engagements. I knew what was on everybody’s mind: this was exactly the sort of event that could send me back into my hyper-manic tail spin, put me back in the psych ward for the third time.

The thing was, Kathryn was more than a sister. She was me. With our matching dolphin tattoos, our matching blue cars, our blonde hair and our outrageous emotions. She was the female version of me, the sister whose soul was most entangled with mine. For years I’d assumed that one day I would end up derelict in her basement, while she played at domesticity with her healthy suburban brood upstairs.

She had my back when nobody else did.

“I know she’s still here, man. But I can’t talk to her yet. So I wanted to come to you, you know? See if she’s made it to the other side,” I said. I was crying now, taking puffs off the spliff and blinking heartbroken at the baby blue sky through the clouds.

Spence took off his aviators. I hadn’t realized he was crying, but now I could see his eyes were red-rimmed. For a moment I wanted to lunge for him, to touch his face with my hands. Then I remembered that he wasn’t there, that he’d been dead for years. Our last meal at Royal Jubilee flashed before my eyes, the way he looked with Canuck-coloured toe nails in his boss robe. Goddamn, I loved him.

“You know I loved your sister,” he said. “She was family to me.”

I nodded, took another drag. The last time I saw Kathryn, in the basement of our house, she was wrapped up like a Pharaoh in her bedsheets. I touched her little cheek, with Celista riding on my hip, and told her that she wasn’t alone. That she would never be alone, that we were right there with her and death wouldn’t scare us away. With my siblings lined up behind me, I kissed her forehead and ran my hands through her duck fluff hair.

“You were perfect to me.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably. He hated when I got too demonstrative or weepy, mostly because his emotions made him uncomfortable. Years earlier, when we’d lived together in Victoria, he had a short-lived fling with my sister. I envisioned them being together, making him real family, but the circumstances weren’t right. Shortly later she was married to someone else.

Spence sighed. “I don’t know if I should tell you this.”

“What?”

He took another drag off his Belmont, then ground it into the grass. Slowly he began to explain to me how the afterlife works, how your soul stays connected to what’s going on in the contemporary timeline for a while, but eventually you transcend that. You stop haunting your friends, you stop wondering what’s going on in real time, because you’ve ascended to another plain of being. One with beaches.

“For a while there I was checking in on Taylor all the time, you know, and Shannon. It’s so much easier to be a Facebook creep once you’re dead. I know so much shit I can’t tell you yet,” he said.

“I know everything that happened to you before you met me, and I know everything that’s going to happen to you. I’ve read the whole story now, but we’re not supposed to give spoiler warnings to people who are still alive. That’s not how life works.”

I coughed a few times, and nodded guiltily at an elderly couple walking by with their dog. I hoped they hadn’t seen me talking to myself. I took a deep breath through my nostrils and tried to imagine how Spence’s consciousness was reaching me, whether this imaginary figure before me was a legit spectral presence or just another fucking delusion, like the time I thought J.K. Rowling was my Mom and G.R.R.M was my Dad.

Spencer bit his lip. “We’re not really allowed to intervene, is the thing. So I know when bad things are going to happen, but I can’t do anything to stop them. I’m at peace with it, but those are the rules.”

My heart was beating a little faster. “You knew. You knew this was going to happen and you didn’t tell me.”

A tear dribbled into his beard, and he pulled out another Belmont. “I’m sorry, man. I really am. I would’ve done something if I could’ve. I swear.”

Now I was really crying in public. “I was like twenty feet away, man. When she drew her last breath. It was like I knew I had to be closer to her, like she pulled me back into her orbit. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know what I could’ve done. I could’ve done so many things,” I said.

“What-ifs are useless, man. You did what you could. You all did. She picked a fight with a demon and it killed her. That’s all there is to it.”

I was starting to get annoyed with Spence, like the time we went on vacation together and I spazzed out at A&W because he complained about the colour of the pickles on his burger. I was going to the trouble of conjuring up his apparition, I figured at least that he’d say something comforting. But that was the thing with Spence, he always told the unvarnished truth. Even when it was uncomfortable.

“So what’s this thing you were going to tell me?”

Spence took a few trembly drags, his fingers shaking. He took a long moment after exhaling. “When I found out what was going to happen to Kathryn, I told you I couldn’t change anything. I had to watch it happen, just like you. But while you were sleeping, I went into Kathryn’s room.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “She was laying on her face, half under the covers, wearing those designer white jeans. She looked so precious, Will. Like Marilyn Monroe.”

I gasped. “Or Princess Di.”

“Exactly.”

I’d never seen Spence this emotional. His eyes were like the Grinch’s as he took another puff. He looked off towards the sand cliffs, and the waterfall where we used to come to drink back in high school. He was pausing because he was trying to work up the courage to say what came next.

“So I crawled into bed with her, Will. I put my arms around her, with her face to my neck, and I cradled her like she was a newborn. I knew she couldn’t hear me, but I whispered to her that I’d be waiting on the other side. With her Gran Dad. I told her she didn’t have to be afraid anymore.”

My joint was finished now. I pulled out a cigarette, and Spencer offered me a light. Was this a pleasing fiction, or was I grasping at some legit truth from beyond the veil? These were exactly the sort of strange thoughts that would get me in trouble, but I needed to have them. I needed to let them out. And I needed to believe Spencer was telling me the truth.

He smiled. “But I didn’t even get to the best part. This is some real Rick and Morty shit.”

I snorted. “What?”

“Again, the metaphor isn’t perfect, but time doesn’t exist once you’re dead. Everything is happening all at once, like the Tralfamadorians in that one Vonnegut book.”

“The Sirens of Titan, right.”

“So the thing is, I’m talking to you right here but you’re also hanging with me in the afterlife already. We’re all together here. And when I went into that room, I wasn’t the only one there. Your whole family was there, and not just the nine of you but all of your aunts and uncles and all these other people I didn’t know,” he said.

I couldn’t believe it. “They were all there?”

“Packed in, shoulder to shoulder. All her boyfriends had to wait out in the living room. Then there was her swimming friends, her Sauder girls, her B.C. Ferries crowd. There was so many people they couldn’t even fit in the basement suite, so a bunch of them were out smoking in the driveway. And you know who else was there? Celista.”

I wanted to believe him so bad. “Would you believe that, if you were me?”

Spence shrugged. “Probably not. All I know is what I saw. And everyone wanted to be there, to let Kathryn know she wasn’t alone. That includes you. The future you was there, like a Force Ghost from Star Wars. And you were so proud of her for how hard she fought. She was a Jedi.”

“I’ve never heard you get this maudlin before. I mean, you didn’t even believe in God. This shit sounds pretty bonkers.”

He laughed. At first it was just a surprised blurt, but then it escalated into body-shaking belly laughter. He wiped his eyes.

“What’s the joke?” I asked. “I don’t get it.”

Spence’s eyes gleamed with mischief.

“We are God.”

The Kootenay Goon

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rebelfish · 4 years

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You can make more money but you can’t always make more memories... 🏕 🔥 🏊‍♀️ 🏖 🐟 🥾 ☀️ . . . saskparks #ExploreSask #saskparks #saskatchewan #explore #camping #tenting #summervibes #cozycabin #campgroundlife #twilight #rebelfishadventures #saskatchewanlandingprovincialpark #southernsaskatchewan #exploresk @explorecanada (at Saskatchewan Landing Provincial Park, Lake Diefenbaker) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8uF4QLnI8S/?igshid=7n951bawdhdu

#exploresask #saskparks #saskatchewan #explore #camping #tenting #summervibes #cozycabin #campgroundlife #twilight #rebelfishadventures #saskatchewanlandingprovincialpark #southernsaskatchewan #exploresk

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eranjayne · 2 months

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February Mini Sessions!

February minis are now available! Check it out!

It’s the month where we celebrate love, in all its ways, shapes and forms! So, why not celebrate the love in your life with a mini photo session! Each month this year, I’ll be offering at least ONE weekend date of 4 back-to-back mini sessions, at a local park or location. I know there are many of you out there who have young families (or partners!) that can’t sit still for a longer portrait…

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#Delta family photos #Delta photographer #Diefenbaker Park #Diefenbaker Park family photos #family mini sessions #Ladner family photos #Ladner photographer #monthly mini sessions #South Delta family photos #South Delta photographer #Tsawwassen family photos #Tsawwassen photographer #Vancouver photographer

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billandkenride · 5 years

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From Dief to Buff

On Sunday morning we opened our ride on the Trans Canada Trail along Lake Diefenbaker. However, the path got a bit cantankerous and we cut back to the pavement. Our route took us by another politically-named legacy, Douglas Provincial Park. All three major political parties have projects in this region named for builders of a past era. A big salute to them for making a difference.

We cycled right into the jaws of a south wind for most of the day. That ornery gale alleviated and shifted somewhat late in the afternoon. The Qu’Appelle Valley and River stretched out ahead of us and we followed it to Buffalo Pound Provincial Park. Greeters were merging in at the same time we arrived at our hosts’ cabin. What a great gathering and party last night. Think we’ll stay awhile.

Cheers,

Bill and Ken

Darn.....we need to go left

Another great river valley

Taking Monday off here!

Song of the Day

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glaciernps · 6 years

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1960 Governors’ Conference

On June 26-29, 1960, the Many Glacier Hotel hosted the 52nd annual Governors’ Conference. Except for those from Pennsylvania and Hawaii, all US governors attended, including those from Guam, Puerto Rico, American Samoa, and the Virgin Islands.

The hotel had to install special telephone facilities in the lobby for use by the 73 news agencies and representatives covering the conference. The principal speaker at the State Dinner on June 27th was John G. Diefenbaker, the prime minister of Canada. During their stay in the park, General Motors supplied the visitors with 60 white Cadillacs and 140 Chevrolets, as seen in the top photo.

#throwback thursday #tbt #history #historical photo #governors conference #many glacier #glacier national park #glaciernps #black and white photo

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torontodesign · 5 years

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EXPO 67: part 2 the background

The idea of hosting the 1967 World Exhibition dates back to 1956.

Montreal's mayor, Sarto Fournier, backed the proposal, allowing Canada to make a bid to the Bureau International des Expositions (BIE). At the BIE's May 5, 1960 meeting in Paris, Moscow was awarded the fair after five rounds of voting that eliminated Austria's and then Canada's bids. In April 1962, the Soviets scrapped plans to host the fair because of financial constraints and security concerns. Montreal's new mayor, Jean Drapeau, lobbied the Canadian government to try again for the fair, which they did. On November 13, 1962, the BIE changed the location of the World Exhibition to Canada, and Expo 67 went on to become the second-best attended BIE-sanctioned world exposition, after the 1900 Exposition Universelle in Paris. (It is now fourth, having been surpassed by Osaka (1970) and Shanghai (2010).)

Several sites were proposed as the main Expo grounds. One location that was considered was Mount Royal Park, to the north of the downtown core. But it was Drapeau's idea to create new islands in the St. Lawrence river, and to enlarge the existing Saint Helen's Island. The choice overcame opposition from Montreal's surrounding municipalities, and also prevented land speculation.

Expo did not get off to a smooth start; in 1963, many top organizing committee officials resigned. The main reason for the resignations was Mayor Drapeau's choice of the site on new islands to be created around the existing St. Helen's Island and also that a computer program predicted that the event could not possibly be constructed in time. Another more likely reason for the mass resignations was that on April 22, 1963, the federal Liberalgovernment of Prime Minister Lester Pearson took power. This meant that former Prime Minister John Diefenbaker's Progressive Conservativegovernment appointees to the board of directors of the Canadian Corporation for the 1967 World Exhibition were likely forced to resign.

Canadian diplomat Pierre Dupuy was named Commissioner General, after Diefenbaker appointee Paul Bienvenu resigned from the post in 1963. One of the main responsibilities of the Commissioner General was to attract other nations to build pavilions at Expo. Dupuy would spend most of 1964 and 1965 soliciting 125 countries, spending more time abroad than in Canada. Dupuy's 'right-hand' man was Robert Fletcher Shaw, the deputy commissioner general and vice-president of the corporation. He also replaced a Diefenbaker appointee, C.F. Carsley, Deputy Commissioner General., Shaw was a professional engineer and builder, and is widely credited for the total building of the Exhibition. Dupuy hired Andrew Kniewasser as the general manager. The management group became known as Les Durs—the tough guys—and they were in charge of creating, building and managing Expo. Les Durs consisted of: Jean-Claude Delorme, Legal Counsel and Secretary of the Corporation; Dale Rediker, Director of Finances; Colonel Edward Churchill, Director of Installations; Philippe de Gaspé Beaubien, Director of Operations, dubbed "The Mayor of Expo"; Pierre de Bellefeuille, Director of Exhibitors; and Yves Jasmin, Director of Information, Advertising and Public Relations. To this group the chief architect Édouard Fiset was added. All ten were honoured by the Canadian government as recipients of the Order of Canada, Companions for Dupuy and Shaw, Officers for the others.

Jasmin wrote a book, in French, La petite histoire d'Expo 67, about his 45-month experience at Expo and created the Expo 67 Foundation (available on the web site under that name) to commemorate the event for future generations.

As historian Pierre Berton put it, the cooperation between Canada's French- and English-speaking communities "was the secret of Expo's success—'the Québécois flair, the English-Canadian pragmatism.'" However, Berton also points out that this is an over-simplification of national stereotypes. Arguably Expo did, for a short period anyway, bridge the 'Two Solitudes.'

#canada #design #expo 67. politics #lester pearson #john diefenbaker #montreal #pierre berton #architecture

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