A Christmassy end to a bad year

 

How could anything bad have happened in a world this beautiful? Our terrible 2021 is coming to a close in a blaze of glory. Photo by John Denniston.

Last night's snowfall transformed our front garden into a portrait of green and white. Photo by John Denniston.

In this hellish year of floods, fire, heat and plague, we weren’t sure what might be in store for the last week of 2021. It was unusually cold for Vancouver, for sure, with stories of hummingbirds falling frozen from their perches, and Omicron numbers so high that authorities gave up counting.

But it was also a white Christmas and a truly Christmassy week.  We added to that by treating ourselves to new books and a chocolate run to Beta5 bakery, but the big gift came today. We woke to a cloud of fluffy snow that turned our garden into a white forest. The sun shone, the temperature rose, and my back-porch hummingbird stopped hunching and started soaring. A hint of a better year to come?  

Some photos from our unexpectedly pleasant end to a terrible year:

On Wednesday, we extended our Christmas gluttony by a day and picked up some more treats at Beta5 Bakery. Because gluttony should be shared, we dropped some off for Linda. Here's she reacting to a boxed chocolate called, "Lump of Coal." Photo by John Denniston.

Oh, and a cream puff. She chose the Chai version, shown at the left in the photo below. Photo by John Denniston. 

Linda's elaborate cream puff with what looks like a copper hat, and her lump of coal, split.

Our cream puffs were coffee and vanilla. Each have their own distinctive little hats. Photo by John Denniston.

Here are their innards. I got a good look at them for the first time; usually we don't stop to look, we just inhale. Photo by John Denniston.

The lump of coal, close up. Photo by John Denniston.

The lump of coal, dissected. Once again, it was fun to see how those things are actually built. Photo by John Denniston.

Back to the snowfall, this was what we saw when we opened the front door this morning. Photo by John Denniston.

The back yard, before shovelling. Photo by John Denniston.

Carol in a cloud of snow. I brush snow off the hedges and trees to prevent it getting too heavy as it melts and refreezes. Photo by John Denniston.

The front-steps clean-off. They don't look as beautiful as with snow, but they're better to walk on. Photo by John Denniston. 

By the time I'd finished shaking the snow off the back-yard trees and hedges, I was a little snowy myself. Photo by John Denniston.

The bird bath wore a fluffy cap of white. Photo by John Denniston.

The bird-seed holder had one too. Photo by John Denniston.

This strange object is my effort to supply birds with unfrozen water. The black thing is a dish of water. It's sitting in a plastic basin filled with an unloved, discarded pair of pajamas for insulation. The basin is sitting on an old sweater draped over the little bird bath. As far as I know, no bird went near this all day. Photo by John Denniston.

My deal with a hummer

 

This little ball of fluff has been sitting in a bush by my back steps for two days. Photo by John Denniston

I’ve heard about people developing relationships with wild critters before – crows that welcome them home, squirrels that eat out of their hands, blue jays that arrive promptly at 9 a.m. for peanuts. Now, thanks to the cold weather, I seem to have acquired my own connection to the wild.

John first spotted my new friend yesterday: “What’s that kind of turquoisey bird out there?” he asked, pointing to a bump on the lilac bush by the back porch.  It was a hummingbird, hunched into a fluffy ball, head withdrawn, barely moving. I thought it was sick, maybe dying, as it sat there through the cold afternoon. But every so often, it flew to the hummingbird feeder a couple of yards away, drank heartily, then returned to its perch.

It vanished that night, but this morning it was back in the same spot. By then, I had two feeders going to ensure there was always a thawed one to replace a frozen one. I did some research and discovered that in very cold weather, hummingbirds go into a state of torpor – much like they do at night – where their metabolism slows to preserve their energy. They fluff their feathers, withdraw their heads and don’t move much.

So my bird sat on, livening up for a few flights when the temperature rose, and making periodic trips to the always-ready feeder. Just like the people who have developed an understanding with their crows, squirrels or blue jays, I now have a deal with my hummingbird. I feed him and he doesn’t die.

A few yards away from the bird's perch is a feeder of nectar, changed out when it freezes. Besides eating there, he seems to keep an eye on it, occasionally fighting off sparrows that land to drink water out of the central moat. 

Beside the back porch railing is the lilac bush where the hummingbird seems to have made a temporary home.

Cold

 

This is me on Monday, discovering that -11 degrees means wearing a scarf over your face if you have spent the last five decades in Vancouver's temperate winters. Unaccustomed to the bite, my cheeks and nose went into shock. Photo by John Denniston.

How cold was it on Monday? So cold that the hummingbird feeder froze in half an hour. So cold that the hummingbirds zoomed at the thawed-out feeder the moment it came out the door.  So cold that I bought a second feeder so I can quickly switch liquid for solid, without worrying that a tiny hunched turquoise bit of feathers might die if it doesn’t get dinner.

Wild Birds Unlimited, where I buy my bird-feeding supplies, said warmers for hummingbird feeders wouldn't be available for a few days, so I bought a second feeder to spell off the first when it freezes.

Foodie Christmas

 

Christmas 2021 seemed to be mostly about food – a good place to turn when socializing had to be kept to the minimum. It started last fall, when Lee Valley’s Christmas Gift Catalogue featured an elaborately decorated “house,” surrounded by similarly decorated mini-houses, courtesy of two incredibly detailed cake pans.

The cover of the Lee Valley catalogue made me just want to bake these cakes myself. 

A whole village of little cake houses to bake and decorate! If I was six, a dream come true. Luckily, I have a six-year-old in my life with a creative bent, and I could indulge us both. On Christmas Day, my grandniece Emi, plus her mom Aya, dad Etienne and little sister Mia became the proud owners of two elaborate Christmas bundt pans plus a bag of decorating accoutrements.  

The pans make a nice little village themselves. Decorated with some greenery and lights, they'd make a good table centrepiece. Photo by John Denniston.

I had to try out one of the pans myself to see how it worked. After a few scary moments, the cake popped out virtually intact, with only a crack in the chimney. I'm sure Aya will do better. Photo by John Denniston.

The end result: Emi and the decorated cake house with a very jolly jellybean roof!

Emi and Mia and the finished cake. 

Whether they’ll be as intrigued by cakes in the shape of cute little houses as I am, I don’t know, but food was certainly on all our minds this year. Etienne and Aya sent us home with a bag full  of their delicious home cooking, as well as a cornucopia of chocolates and desserts from the unmatchable Beta 5 bakery. We’ll all be plumper in the New Year.

These Beta 5 chocolates look -- and taste -- like jewels. Photo by John Denniston.

More of our chocolate gifts; we haven't launched into this yet. Photo by John Denniston.

Ah yes, our "lump of coal," which appears to be a very large, very dark ball of excellent chocolate. To be savoured in the next while. Photo by John Denniston. 

Here's where we really had fun. "Shall we split one before dinner?" we asked when we got home from Etienne and Aya's on Christmas Day. Photo by John Denniston. 

"That was excellent. How about the white one? Shall we indulge?" Photo by John Denniston.

"Well, this looks kind of lonely. We've gone this far. Might as well polish it off." Photo by John Denniston.

"I don't think we're going to need dinner now!" Photo by John Denniston.

Another Merry Covid Christmas

 Are we downhearted? Discouraged? Depressed? After two years of mask-wearing, sidewalk-swerving, people-distancing and event-avoiding thanks to Covid, we had our hopes up that this Christmas would be different. Then came Omicron, and yes, we are mightily teed-off.

No family Christmas, no trip to Saltspring. But railing at Omicron has a limited shelf-life, so we’re making as merry as we can. Here are some photos of our amusements:

Sometimes, we are the only Grinch house on the block -- no decorations! -- but in the last couple of years, John has decided we should at least put lights around the door. In this photo, he's using a remote to control the camera at the foot of the stairs. We're laughing because it was much more fun in the old days when he set a timer, then raced to get into the photo -- the best ones caught him in mid-stride halfway to his destination. Photo by John Denniston. 

Many people use deer as outdoor decorations at this time of year, but we'd never seen one that looked like this. Instead of the usual rattan structure, it was made of wire with triangles of foil that reflected the light. The beautiful blue, pink and gold colours reflect the sunset that was happening when the photo was taken. Photo by John Denniston. 

Someone in our area is an artist with found wood. Every time we pass, something different has happened on the boulevard -- at Easter there was a huge nest woven from branches, with three egg-shaped rocks tucked within. The latest structure is this turtle. It was plain at first, but in honour of the season, now stands on a bed of evergreens with a few sprigs of holly on one side. Last time I passed, its back was mounded with holly. This artist keeps you wondering what is next. Photo by John Denniston.

Much less elaborate and nothing to do with Christmas is another wooden critter made of found wood, on a boulevard elsewhere in the city. I guess people don't like to just toss interesting sticks.

We had a trip to West Vancouver -- a huge event when you mostly go nowhere! At the end of the seawall, West Van had its usual display of Christmas trees, decorated by various organizations, businesses and individuals. We were amused by the middle one, with its minimalist decorations reflecting the sign. Photo by John Denniston.

Another Christmas tree, built out of loose wood and decorated appropriately. Photo by John Denniston.

Some Christmas displays you just can't ignore, even if you're not particularly in love with inflatable decorations. This one had just about everything, including a Santa popping in and out of a toilet. Photo by John Denniston.

Another of those displays you just can't not photograph. To the left, you can see the Santa in the outhouse. Photo by John Denniston.

And here's the boulevard bathtub lady, who always gets redecorated to reflect the season. Last year she had ice skates; this year evergreen boughs and poinsettia blossoms. It's interesting to watch, now that we have so much time for observation, how people entertain themselves -- and us -- with these public displays.