I went skiing on Grouse Mountain this morning (my first time skiing in ages). Down below, the city was shrouded in fog, but on top the mountain, we were in a world of sun and snow (and surprising warmth).
island mountain tops
ridges of sea monster back
rise from sea of fog
Downtown on Robson Street today, looking down Granville Street, something seemed wrong with the picture. Then I realized that the fog had erased the tall buldings normally looming behind the two-story older ones and had also erased the Granville Street bridge. As I walked away, a haiku started to form. By the time, I thought of going back to take a photo, the fog had dissipated, but you can still get the idea from the photo below, which I took a couple blocks west. I walked all around Robson St. and side streets looking at old apartment buildings and old Victorian houses, imagining (with the fog’s help) what the streets must have looked like when the old low-rise buildings lined every street, and high-rises, cellphones, etc. were still the stuff of science fiction.
fog turns back the clock
old buildings reclaim the street
new ones disappear
Can you make out the hint of taller buildings behind the old ones?
We haven’t seen any raccoons since moving to this new place, but we’ve seen plenty of raccoon foot prints since the snow. They seem to take the same route every night, their tracks like invisible ink until the snow reveals their secrets.
raccoon paw prints
mark the ice on our fish pond
washing thwarted
Note: Although it looks like raccoons “wash” their food, they don’t actually do it to be fastidious. Scientists used to think raccoons didn’t have enough saliva and needed to wet their food to swallow it. It’s since been discovered that raccoons do have enough saliva. They may simply be wetting their food to soften it or to enhance the tactile experience (they like to feel their food, and their hands become more sensative when wet).
wild ink 