Tag Archives: Construction

Wildflowers at UBC

“Neighbourhood Wildflower Garden” Phone Photo, DS

Wildflowers at UBC

After decades of languishing in the landscape version of shabby chic, the lands of UBC seemed to come alive with construction around 2010. It was my habit to explore, in the summers I studied there in residence at various places over the years. Among many, I mention now three treasures I came across as surprises in the fields behind the square-like has-been properties of various departmental buildings from the 60’s and 70’s according to the greened mosaics and metal sculptures in neglected pools.

Behind the Museum of Anthropology with ancient poles and pitted gravel back yard, I found sculpture from another era. It was a heavy imposing metal structure built on the bluff for a canon, of all things. This was proof to me that we did have to watch our coast in WWII. After my reverie I moved on to come across a wood and fabric-built structure of much greater proportions. I mused that it was the beginnings of a tented stage for a coming summer concert. Finally, as I walked in the overgrown grassy field toward Green College a distant site enlivened my eyes and my pace. Flowers of every colour amazed an acreage of landscape. I had seen wildflower meadows in film but they were surpassed by the vibrance and variety of this one, so overwhelming in person. My breath halted and a prayer escaped. A couple of years later the wildflower meadow was no more.

In the third year of the pandemic now, after online courses, I braved my way out to attend a round table discussion on gender and spirituality with profs Lynn Cohick and Wesley Hill at Regent College, Room 100, the small lecture hall. I would kill several birds with one stone. (Parking was easier than I thought, but expensive.) First, of course, was the Anton Dolfo-Smith exhibition at the Dal Schindell Gallery upstairs. The sentiment on dementia, the high key colours, and the patterned circle and square shapes, did not disappoint. Bookstore beeswax candles and professors’ books purchased, I had left time for coffee before the event but The Well Café had closed during the pandemic, the sign said. Across the street and behind was a Starbucks. I sat on the wet outdoor metal chair and consumed with the pleasure of being there.

Almost late now, I rushed back to hear the discussion. In my right peripheral vision was a literal profusion of flowers mixed with weeds on the median, the verges and also the boulevards, I later discovered. The scruffiness in all of its beauty, was back. UBC’s lack of pandemic maintenance and the forethought of a wildflower seeder had beautified again the too-manicured UBC lands. The colours fill my mind’s eyes this morning with their deep pinks, oranges and violets. In the midst of trauma, beauty emerges to heal, again. In my hurry and amazement, no photo was taken, or needed.

The Anti-Walk

“Working at Dundarave” DS

I just got back from attempting to go for a walk, made it up the stairs holding on, traversed the top of the driveway, then could find no footing that was not precarious. A woman and her dog came by. I introduced myself, she was Barb from Keith Road. She had just fallen, her leg hurt and her hip and she was embarrassed. Maybe wait for the sun to melt this more, she said. I went back slowly and descended the black-ice steps. The sun shone on my face as I contemplated using the treadmill for another day. I stood on the patio breathing in the unusual above-zero air and went in to make coffee.

Ode to the Workers (a healing prose poem)

“Scarred Yard” DS

They don’t want to listen to what I want

They do it their way

They interpret and make decisions about change

Without consulting me

They do not capture my vision

I smile

They do not solve the problem and 

When I point it out 

In anger they charge me to fix

Their mistakes also

I frown

And then they do not finish

Nor

Do they clean up

They damage other things as they

Forge ahead with their own

Heavy-handed solutions that

Do not fit

I cajole

I correct

I reward

I stay in their faces

Or

Stay away from their places

Of violence on our property

A brief reality check

Acknowledges

A brief culpability

That disappears at invoice time

I threaten no pay

They warn

I pay

They go away anyway

And do not return 

Leaving me 

Holding the bag of mistakes

And hugely dented bank account

I resign 

They do not

Come another day

Ever

I rant

I lament.