Yesterday the provincial government announced it would be switching to permanent Daylight Saving Time–henceforth to be known as Pacific Time and that moving clocks forward an hour this coming weekend will be the last time British Columbians will do so.
I am both surprised and happy about this. Surprised because the government had taken the position of waiting for the western states to switch first, so the whole Pacific coast could be in sync. After years of waiting and nothing happening, I just assumed this was another promise that would never be fulfilled.
But then the BC government decided, six years after a survey indicated overwhelming support for the time change, to lead by example and hope others would follow. We join the Yukon, which made the switch two years ago.
Unsurprisingly, some people are unhappy and pretty much any discussion of the change will have these people popping up grousing about how we should have switched to permanent standard time, not daylight time, because that means more light in the morning rather than the evening. I get it. But please, just let people be happy and enjoy the moment (I stopped reading any discussions related to this).
For me, it’s great. Changing the clocks twice a year has always been awkward and weird, with little benefit to modern living, so I’m glad to see we’re getting rid of it. I prefer more light in the latter part of the day, even as I understand the arguments for having more in the morning. I’m counting this as a rare win for common sense in a year and time (ho ho) that seems largely devoid of it.
I somehow forgot what you call a piece of land that extends into water–a peninsula (duh), but searching for the term brought me to this site and the map showing all the different types of terrain and water types is information-dense in a good way, and just plain cute.
Also, it reminded me what an isthmus is, other than a word your tongue wants to twist.
I was power-washing some concrete stairs in our condo complex this afternoon and when you get to one of the corners of a step, it’s surprisingly tricky to avoid having the spray bounce back directly at you.
Which it did, multiple times. And with something like 2,500 PSI of force, you definitely notice it. It’s not often my face gets gritty, but it did today.
But a good portion of the steps are clean now, so it was worth it!
Before:
Dirty steps. And a stroller that appeared jusrt as I snapped the photo.
After:
Clean steps! Plus the stroller has returned to the stroller dimension from whence it came.
I am in the hallway of some kind of school, possibly a college or university. For some reason the floor is carpeted. There are several people with me that I know in the dream, but I can’t recall if they were actual or dream people. Doors to nearby classrooms are open. There is a lot of water on the carpet, leaving it quite saturated in some spots. There are some green frogs scattered about, one a fairly big size (for a frog), the others small.
I am wearing blue jeans. I look down at one of my legs and see the jeans are wet. It is not because I failed to get to the loo in time, it’s just water. But from that water emerges a tiny frog, as if manifesting from the frog dimension and onto my leg. It hops onto the floor and joins the other frogs. I see more frogs appear out of the saturated carpet.
Before the frogs can take over the world, which was undoubtedly their plan, I awaken.
The Delivery Van
Or possibly a moving van, but I’m pretty sure it was a delivery van. I am riding shotgun and the driver is a nervous young guy, maybe 18 or 19. We are returning the van to the lot from which it was rented/borrowed. I am aware the van is semi-autonomous, but the kid is driving and in full control.
We get to the lot and there is another similar van there, which becomes relevant shortly.
From a room with large glass windows, almost like a control tower at an airport, a supervisor of some sort guides us in. He tells the kid over the radio to line the van up with some kind of docking mechanism. The important part is, just as the van connects, the kid has to push a comically large button on the dashboard. The kid muffs on the timing and the van fails to dock. This causes it to wheel off back into the lot and somehow it becomes more autonomous and sort of out of control, but very slowly out of control. Think of the steamroller in the first Austin Powers move, like that.
The supervisor from the control room somehow manages to climb into the driver’s side to take over. The kid has either disappeared or got out real quiet-like, making me wonder why I couldn’t have done the same. The other delivery van is kind of looping around us and while it’s not explicitly stated, I understand this is a bad thing.
The supervisor gives me a big key and produces another identical to it. He says we both need to insert our keys into slots on the dashboard at the same time and turn them. “Like firing nukes,” I say, “except we’re the nukes?” He laughs, but in a nervous way.
Sadly, I wake up before finding out what happened next. It’s too bad, because I really wanted to know!
When I was at the store, I bought a regular-size Aero bar, because I’d just walked something like 4 km and felt I’d earned the bubbly chocolate calories. But I kept the wrapper in a pocket of my hoodie, because I wanted to enter the calorie particulars into my food total for the day, as I do. If I’m going to indulge, I need to track it!
It was sunny and surprisingly warm wearing my lined hoodie, so I took my hands out of the pockets and just let them hang at my sides, like some clever ape. When I put my hands back in the pockets later, the Aero wrapper was gone. Apparently I’d either pulled it out without noticing, or it had just quietly slipped out on its own.
I thought about retracing my steps, but the wrapper could have been anywhere along a 1+ km route and might have blown onto the road or something, so I just kept walking home, feeling guilty.
And it made me wonder, how much litter is accidental? Maybe not a lot, but I know for sure now that some of it is.
In the meantime, enjoy this 1976 McDonald’s anti-litter commercial. I remember this!
I didn’t mention this in my post-run report today, but I had planned to listen to the R.E.M. album Accelerate on my run. It is a very good album for running, as the title might indicate.
Except it wasn’t there in Apple Music when I searched by (Downloaded) Albums on my iPhone 12:
Also, I have no idea why Abbey Road is listed twice.
I checked under (Downloaded) Artists:
And it turns out two R.E.M. albums are missing, Accelerate (2008) and Collapse Into Now (2011). These are albums I own, not just streaming ones I’ve downloaded. And they are albums I have listened to many times on my iPhone (Accelerate, in particular). I have not touched my music library in any way. Where did they go? Only Apple knows. Actually, Apple probably doesn’t know. But the bigger question is: Why is Apple disappearing albums I’ve actually purchased? It’s like the company is actively trying to push me away.
And guess what? It’s working! I am starting a trial of Deezer.
In the previous post, I talked about David Gilmour’s album About Face. Released in 1984, it has the fear of nuclear war coursing through multiple tracks., It made me suddenly remember a poster I had as a kid.
I got my own bedroom when I was 14. This was a very big deal for me, because it meant I could listen to my own music, got to have the family’s second TV (our first colour set) and I could express myself with a carefully curated collection of art and posters, as befits the sophisticated tastes of a 14-year-old teen.
I had this poster hanging on the inside of the door of my main closet (the upstairs closets of our house were weirdly large–I actually had two walk-in closets in my bedroom):
Step 7 always made me laugh and it felt edgy having a poster in my room with the word “ass” on it. I must admit, it still makes me laugh today, because it was and is so very correct.
After my fiasco of trying to listen to the album on a run, I grabbed it and listened to it in full a day or so later at home. I can see why people pick Automatic For the People as R.E.M.’s best album–it’s more cohesive and arguably more “mature” (it also has a better title and album art).
But Out of Time has something Automatic lacks–a sense of joyful experimentation. The band spent a lot of time experimenting in the latter half of their career, especially after drummer Bill Berry left, but a lot of it feels weird or kind of indulgent (or worse, a bit boring!)
Out of Time is a band doing new things and having a blast with it. Every member is present and fully participating–you even get two Mike Mills lead vocals (one because Michael Stipe couldn’t finish writing lyrics to “Texarkana” so Mills took over, rewrote the song, dropped any reference to Texarkana and ended up with one of the best tracks on the album).
Everyone remembers “Losing My Religion”, which centred around a mandolin, or the goofy “Shiny Happy People”–which may have had a more sinister meaning, even as the band dismissed it later as a children’s song (the video, which I’ve commented on before, is peak 90s), but the album is chock-full of what the kids call deep cuts, ranging from a rare instrumental (“Endgame”) to the eminently silly but catchy “Radio Song” in which Stipe deadpans the phrase “Hey hey hey” repeatedly. It makes excellent use of Kate Pierson of the B-52s on a couple of tracks. Even the song “Fretless”, which didn’t make the album, is great. The B-sides are A-sides.
Anyway, you should listen to it.
About Face (David Gilmour)
This was Gilmour’s second solo album, released in 1984 and when it seemed Pink Floyd was done (he would reconstitute the band without Roger Waters and release a new album three years later). Unlike his first solo effort in 1978, which has a loose, dreamy feel, About Face is What If Pink Floyd Made a Pop Album?
Gilmour has been a bit bagged on for his skill as a lyricist, but on About Face, he keeps things simple, direct–and sometimes surprisingly cheeky. My favourite example is “Cruise”, a breezy song with a soaring chorus that is, literally, about cruise missiles. Gilmour is clearly not impressed:
Saving our children, saving our land Protecting us from things we can’t understand Power and Glory, Justice and Right I’m sure that you’ll help us to see the light And the love that you radiate will keep us warm And help us to weather the storm
“And the love that you radiate will keep us warm” is a great bit of word play.
Then:
Please don’t take what I’m saying amiss Or misunderstand at a time such as this Because if such close friends should ever fall out What would there be left worth fighting about
Same for “if such close friends should ever fall out.” So cheeky.
He conscripted Pete Townsend to write three sets of lyrics and used two, the standout being “All Lovers Are Deranged”, which combines a furious guitar with lyrics both savage and droll:
You know that you don’t really fall in love Unless you’re seventeen The break of day will make your spirits fly But you can’t know what it means Unless you’re seventeen
Unlike with PF, here we get a brass section on the kicking “Blue Light” and while the album has the shadow of the Cold War hanging over it (it was 1984, after all), the whole thing remains eminently catchy and well-crafted. Apparently Gilmour was a bit dismissive of the album as being very 80s upon the release of his next solo album in 2006 (yes, 22 years later), but apart from the lyrics, it achieves a kind of timelessness as the songs swing between Gilmour’s concise acoustic strumming and him thrashing in a way he rarely did with Pink Floyd. It’s worth the nostalgia trip to see what might have been, if Pink Floyd hadn’t returned.
Where: Serpentine Fen (Surrey), Tlahutum Regional Park (Coquitlam) Weather: Sun and clouds, 12°C
A rare Friday birding outing, as Saturday was looking like grand weather for ducks, but less so for humans with non-waterproof cameras. We also started a wee bit later, so only got in two locations.
Serpentine Fen
The start of the main trail at Serpentine Fen.
The first was Serpentine Fen, which we haven’t been to in a while. We were immediately greeted by the sight of a heron, which I have arbitrarily decided is good luck. The river was busy with all kinds of waterfowl, including several large groups of mixed ducks. The only real downside, other than it getting less sunny as the afternoon progressed, is most of the birds stayed on the far side of the river. Understandable, with filthy humans on the other, but it still made for more challenging shots.
Still, some Common Mergansers, which we usually only see from afar, were closer than usual, so that was nice.
We also saw a near-adult Bald Eagle near the entrance, sitting in a tree and looking down. The colouring of its feathers and pose made it look like a metal album cover. DEATH FROM ABOVE or something.
But while we saw a few eagles, the sky was filled with Northern Harriers (or one very energetic and agile harrier). They were all over the place, giving us numerous opportunities to get shots. I got a few that were OK, but most of them the head is obscured by the wings or the camera freaked out because the harrier flew in front of some spiny bushes or something. Is it too much to ask for one to sit and pose for us? I mean, yes, it is. But I can dream (and it basically happened once before). Nic did get a shot of a harrier pooping mid-flight, to add to his Birds Pooping Gallery (buy the whole set).
We ventured the usual loop and made it to the third viewing tower, which still has a prominent hole in its floor. A second one seems to be starting, which is disconcerting. Shortly after this, the trail became very muddy and bog-like. We ventured through, getting our feet a bit mucky, only to see this after rounding a corner:
This is a trail, not a pond. Well, it’s also a pond.
The nearby creek had completely flooded the trail, forcing us to turn back and head through the muck again. We did so, then briefly debated on going back the way we came, or walking on and around, which would force us to take a narrow “path” adjacent to the highway. We chose the latter, then wrapped up the outing by walking in reverse to the other side of the flooded part, which wasn’t very far. We heard a lot of frogs, but as usual, saw none. Frogs are probably the loudest sneaky animals around.
In all, it was nice to return, but it will be nicer still in the summer when we can complete a full loop without needing a boat.
Tlahutum Regional Park
Coquitlam River. The sky was changing minute-by-minute by this point.
We then took a very long and straight path to Tlahutum, which has now completely thawed out from our last visit, as we are back to unseasonably mild weather again.
There were a lot of crows gathered in trees and on the river, looking for trouble. Nic saw a rare double-headed crow that turned out to be two crows cuddling up to each other. I don’t blame him for being confused, as I do not normally think of crows as cuddly with anything.
We were curious if the explosion of voles we saw last time would repeat, but we didn’t see any. It’s like they all returned to their vole pocket dimension. We speculated a bit but ultimately had no real answers on where they went, other than probably just somewhere we couldn’t see them.
The pond, now ice-free, gave us some better opportunities for shooting the birds there, including a grebe that handily sailed past us in profile not too far off. There were also plenty of butts on display.
The sky started to clear up as it edged closer to sunset, but gave up halfway through, so I settled on taking shots of clouds and reflections in the very still creeks and waterways.
It was nice to not have to worry about the weather, even if the light ended up pretty dim by the end. Here’s hoping we get some more sunny days as we get closer to spring1Fun fact: February is the first month when rainfall declines, but it then it spikes higher in March, before the downward trend continues in April.
The Shots
Shot with a Canon EOS R7 with 18-150 mm kit lens and 100-400 mm telephoto.
Great Blue Heron pondering on the Serpentine River.A brightly lit Common Merganser gliding down the river.Pied-billed Grebe at Tlahutum.A (mass) murder of crows in flight.Approaching sunset.
I am standing on a quiet street on a pleasant day. There is no traffic, so this may be a residential area. Sitting on the curb are three people I know, though I can’t recall now if they were real people or dream people. I decided I would play a guessing game with them in which I would run before them as a famous person or fictional character and they’d have to guess who. The three I chose were:
Terry Fox
Steve Austin (The Six Million Dollar Man)
Tina Belcher, from Bob’s Burgers
The dream ended shortly after I’d presented my Terry Fox run.
Dream #2, The Bad Dream:
I am outside and it is dusk. I am near the side of a large building, there are two doors on the wall– men’s and women’s washrooms. I try the door on each, both are locked. I nod, because it is getting late and it is not surprising they are closed now. I realize it is later than I thought, as it is getting dark and there are no nearby lights. I start to head back to the front of this large building, which now seems to be the Moose Lodge in Duncan (it has been known for many years as the Duncan Lodge, I am recalling the version from my younger days). Across the parking lot I see a young woman walking slowly toward me. There is enough light to make the person look like someone from The Ring and I become alarmed and start to sprint toward the front entrance. I move in that syrupy slow way of bad dreams, but make it inside and instead of fumbling with the round door lock like a slasher movie victim, I manage to smoothly switch it over into the locked position.
I am safe. It seems now that the Moose Lodge interior has been replaced with the home I grew up in, so I am standing in our downstairs hallway. There is still very little light, so I head toward the next room, the kitchen. As I get close to the doorway, I can see someone standing in the centre of the kitchen, unmoving. Light coming in from the window over the kitchen sink hits the figure from behind, giving it outline and form. The head is bowed, the figure is not moving at all. Instead of panicking, I inch forward and snap on the light.
When the light comes on, there is no one standing there, if there had ever been. I make some kind of audible sound–a moan of relief, a cry, something. I then realize I am awake and making the same sound. I feel a bit silly and stop.
I mull over what prompted each dream, but can’t make any connections. I fall back asleep and spend the rest of the night dreamless.
