chilliwack lake wide angle, chilliwack lake park
chilliwack lake, chilliwack lake provincial park
howe sound (iteration), vancouver
widgeon, pt. 3: the long version, maple ridge
widgeon pt. 2, maple ridge
widgeon valley rain storm, maple ridge
hello all. if you happen to be in vancouver and are interested in attending a photo/art opening, please come over to the photohaus gallery tomorrow and have a look.
this group has been working together for a few weeks now polishing up our work, and i think that this will be a great show. i have done something a little different for this one, and i’ll be posting about it soon.
also, apologies for the lack of posts lately, i’ve been really busy catching back up with work, dealing with my father’s estate, and just generally keeping busy/enjoying the sun/gearing up for summer.
For my father
My father was a giant, at least in my permanently preserved 10 year old memories of him. Aside from his physical stature, though, it was his intellect, his kind nature and his patience for his two rambunctious sons that made him an imposing wall of decency and wisdom and love.
He was an outdoorsman by his very nature. He moved us from the city and we lived simply. He was an avid angler and he loved to forage; we spent many seasons on the river collecting fish, fiddleheads, and flowers for mothers and grandmothers, and friends and family. He worked for a living, not just as a tradesman, but as a person in the world. Our backyard was our playground, but it was also our livelihood. Our first summer job was to help log firewood for the winter. It was hard work and I hated it, but it was the first important lesson he taught us; the importance of doing what needed to be done, what we needed to survive.
He was principled and opinionated, and unafraid to share his thoughts about science, politicians and politics, current events, taxes, investing, math, philosophy, finance, bionics, or even string theory… He read. A lot. And if ignorance is bliss, he was utterly miserable. Because if there was an issue in the world, he would’ve known a thing or two about and it was in his character to care.
His caring nature, while sometimes concerned with strangers in far away places, was mostly focused on his family. He cared that we were fed, clothed, and taken care of. He cared that my brother and I would grow to be responsible, respectable human beings, who would do right by the world. He cared that maybe one day we, too, would care.
In other words, he was a great man and even better father.
And I will miss him.
Sorry for the radio silence lately. I’ve been busy. I’ll be back at it next week hopefully.
still waiting for the sakura, vancouver
columns along pike street, seattle
