Easter colours

Easter-stone chimney: Don't those rocks look like they belong in a basket of coloured eggs? They seem to be permanent rather than seasonal, as I've passed this Dunbar house all winter. Photo by John Denniston.

Every season has its colours, and when the tulip beds begin to turn pink, purple and yellow, I think Easter.

Those were the colours in the egg-dyeing kits that produced the most important aspect of my childhood Easters. For me and my siblings, what was the holiday without: 1) hard-boiling as many white-shelled eggs as we could beg from the hens and our mother? 2) dipping those eggs in glasses of dye until they were just the right shade of pretty, or our patience ran out? 3) transferring images from the kits onto the still-damp eggs (always messy, never successful)? And 4) hiding and hunting those eggs around the house and yard for days, until they cracked and began to smell?

I haven’t dyed Easter eggs for years, let alone hunted them. But Vancouver’s springtime hues still sing of Easter to me. Here are some recent photos showing why:

Camellias with cherry blossoms behind -- oh for an egg these exact shades of pink!

A bed of tulips that reminded me of the old egg-dyeing kits we used as kids.

Cherry blossoms on tree, street and car -- a delicate puff of pink. Photo by John Denniston.

Hyacinths and tulips outside the Kerrisdale Community Centre. Close-up, the combination of pink, salmon and white was very Easter-ish. Photo by John Denniston.

John's version of spring daffodils: a few lonely strands of yellow surrounding a tree stump and a city works cone. Photo by John Denniston.

Doggie paradise

 

Oh happiness! Off-leash freedom with friends in Saltspring's Duck Creek Park. Photos by John Denniston.

If you want a glimpse of pure joy, head to Saltspring’s Duck Creek Park on any weekend afternoon.

There will be dogs.

 Romping, splashing, chasing, barking, tails aloft. The creek is a fine place to watch them muddy their paws, splash each other, then empty the water out of their fur on their owners.

But for the best look, head through the fields and up a hill, to a spreading tree at the park’s highest point. It’s the party place for dogs and people alike.  While the humans catch up on the week’s gossip, their charges swoop in circles, chasing and being chased, pummeling and being pummeled, jumping up on visitors, jumping down, then off again for another swoop.

The dogs know this is their place and time. There’s a water bowl, often a water jug left for refills, and a bench with a plaque memorializing the companions who have played here in the past. For humans – owners and visitors alike – it’s a reminder that the height of happiness can be just a romp in nature with friends.

Me and my new friends: Show up to the party uninvited, and the dogs will welcome you anyway. 

Another season, another dog. John took this photograph of a dog welcoming us to the same spot one dried-out day last summer.