construction is a season
I know it’s not spring yet, but look — patches of bare ground have appeared where ice-encrusted snowbanks once ruled, I can see a ring of grass around the maple tree, and, on the sunny side of the street, a sidewalk! This past weekend, the temperature soared to 9 degrees celcius and it rained (other places were not so lucky). We lost two-thirds of our snow. It feels like such a relief.
Along with the warming temperatures, other signs of spring:
- a sleepy housefly was buzzing and bumbling around the kitchen at work
- the goldfinches are beginning to yellow up
- the cat actually wants to go outdoors
- lost dog toys have suddenly turned up in the backyard, having been there all along
The construction project uptown has moved into a new phase of work, and the excavation for the new parking garage has begun. When I walked by the construction site yesterday, I smelled mud. Mud! Any day now, road crews will be out with fresh asphalt to start filling the huge potholes that plague the city streets.
The construction season has begun. Can spring be far behind?
Photo taken on February 24, 2011
tropical dreams
If plants had feelings — and who says they don’t? — they would feel very sad at being neglected in a dark corner of the house. You know they are feeling sad, because they literally droop with sadness, moping in the shadows, turning pale and dropping leaves, trying desperately to catch your attention.
And when you relent and place them in a sunny window, giving up your own sunny table to make your plants happy, oh my, what an improvement to their spirits and yours! You can almost see them purring with pleasure as they bask in the light, leaning in to the window as close as they dare and even sacrificing the tips of their leaves in quest of the sun’s life-giving rays.
And if plants had dreams — you know they do — they would dream of mountain slopes and steamy jungles, hot breezes and drenching rains, the call of parrots and the rainbow shimmer of butterfly wings, a tropical paradise where winter is banished forever.
Photo taken on January 20, 2011
brave McAvity
Ever notice how fire hydrants look like little firefighters? Look at their red uniforms, their shiny helmets, their arms stretched out to help. Look at the way they stand protectively, patiently, ready for any emergency. They are short but sturdy, always the first to get dug out of the snowbank, but the last to get noticed in a crowd. They provide many community services, including acting as a message board for dogs and a vantage point for parade-watchers.
It’s good luck to have a fire hydrant near your home (we have one across the street), and it’s also good for your insurance rates. It’s a comfort to see their little faces keeping an eye on your neighbourhood. When there is a fire (fires do happen), that little fire hydrant could be your best friend in the whole world.
In the town of Tweed, Ontario, all the fire hydrants are painted — there is a cat, a pirate, a chef, a police officer — but here in Saint John, they wear their classic uniforms. They don’t need painted faces because they already look friendly. And they have names: this one is named McAvity. McAvity here is part of a small army of firefighters protecting our city. Brave McAvity.
Photo taken on February 24, 2011
February fears
I’m been feeling down lately — and it’s just silly, because I’m really enjoying my job at the moment, and we went to the theatre and symphony and caught up with friends over the past week — but…
But…
- It’s February, and the sidewalks are horribly icy, but spring is coming in the sense that today’s snow will be mixed with rain and freezing rain (yuck).
- I have all but disappeared from my online communities (my apologies for not coming by to visit lately) due to total lack of inspiration.
- I haven’t even taken any photos for a week (this image taken two years ago shows Saint John looking almost exactly as it does today, icicles included).
- When I was reorganizing my desk a few weeks ago, I dropped my favourite lens, a 24mm prime. Fortunately the lens itself seems to be fine, but the autofocus is no longer working.
- My ankle sometimes still aches where I hurt it last fall.
- And, well, I’m going to be 50 next month. I’m not shy about claiming my age, but I am afraid of aging, I am afraid of not being able to walk, I am afraid of not being able to carry my camera wherever impulse takes me, I am afraid of not being able to see clearly.
Yes, I know these February blues will pass, that my petulant whining will magically disappear in the face of a new adventure or new accomplishment, or new month. I’ll be waiting.
Photo taken on February 25, 2009
something old, something new
This streetscape is one of Saint John’s treasures. The group of “jellybean” buildings are c.1860 Second Empire row houses with sophisticated carved window and door surrounds. They are colourful and quaint, old and attractive. They remind us the time when most buildings in the city centre were wood, and the fact that most burnt in the Great Fire of 1877.
A few steps down the street in either direction are modern office buildings, brick and concrete, glass and steel. They house scores of office workers, shops and businesses. They are tall enough to command a view across the city. They are not particularly notable as architecture and do not attract tourists, but they are also a vital part of the city.
The beautifully painted row houses are now locally famous because a citizen’s group lobbied — successfully — to save them from the wrecking ball. The city was concerned that they were decrepit and needed the land to build a new office building. Over time, the old wooden buildings became more expensive to maintain, and the new concrete buildings became easier to construct.
The question is always one of balance, between a city’s historic heart and its economic vitality, between something old — to keep us rooted, and something new — to give us wings.
Photo taken on January 20, 2011
long and short
Saint John is one of the sunniest cities in Canada… but only in the winter. In fact, an Arctic front arrived over the weekend, bringing clear crispy nights and bright sunny days. The crusty snow is so reflective you have to wear sunglasses outdoors to avoid being blinded by sunlight.
In short: it’s frigid. Currently, the windchill is minus 36 Celcius.
* * *
I’ve written before about my efforts to find a job, and my decision to start my own business focusing on freelance photography and writing. It’s been a long wait and struggle trying to find the right niche. Well, I think I’ve found it. I’ve started working again, but I can’t as yet say too much about the job because many details are still to be worked out. And in the past week, I’ve had two people ask for my business card. So, I’ve ordered some business cards and started to put together a website here. Obviously, it’s still under construction, but I welcome your feedback.
In short: things are looking up. I’m thrilled.
Photo taken on January 22, 2010
wash, rinse, repeat
Fact #1: U.S. Democrat Gabrielle Giffords was shot yesterday. Some commentators are linking the shooting in Tucson to violent language on multiple websites, at least one of which showed Giffords’ congressional district in the crosshairs of a gun.
Fact #2: Yesterday I read an article in The Atlantic about the cost of believing everything you find on the internet. The gullibility of the public has allowed radicals and reactionaries to succeed in smear campaigns against their targets, even when their accusations have been proven to be false, because the public loves sensational scandal and ignores the truth that is later uncovered.
Fact #3: I spent more than six hours yesterday reading news feeds and bookmarked blog posts, and catching up on the expected results of South Sudan’s referendum, participating in an online conversation about Saint John’s uptown, and reading about the advantage of planned spending over budgeting.
* * *
If I wanted to remain virtually connected at this rate, I would have to devote at least two hours per day to reading online, and that would be mostly scanning the headlines. No wonder it’s hard to separate facts from fiction and to get a balanced view of the world.
And, in case you haven’t noticed, much of the noise out there (in the virtual world) is recycled information, broken up into byte-sized pieces. Sometimes the information is whitewashed, sometimes it’s muddied. And it’s all thrown together into the great washing machine of the internet, socks and underwear, tourniquets and tennis shoes, the bleeding red bandana and the white silk shirt. The internet does not sort and weigh the information, it does not separate the world’s laundry into the sheep and the wolves.
So take care what you say online, even in jest. Check your temper at the door but do not check your brain. Take care in what you read, and especially what you believe and pass on for fact. It’s not just viruses that we need to guard against. Sadly, very little can be trusted. Everything must be washed, rinsed and hung to dry in the cool light of rational thought.
Photo taken on December 18, 2010
wait, don’t hesitate
It’s easy to act when the situation is urgent. Kick your legs, run, feel the adrenalin pumping as your instincts take over. I’m not an adrenalin junkie, but the occasional dragon (or lion) breathing down my neck would be helpful.
That’s because I always seem to be waiting. I love to dream about possibilities and come up with ideas, so why can’t I follow through? What am I waiting for?
A friend I once knew was brilliant at buying clothes at a used clothing store. She could pick up almost anything and remake it — cutting, sewing, shaping — to be a perfect fit. She didn’t wait for the right size or the right store, she just took what she could find and made it work.
I think my problem is that I’m afraid of falling. I don’t want to start something I can’t finish; I want to know that everything will turn out ok. But if I don’t start something, I’ll never know what would happen, and what could be worse than not knowing how the story ends? I need to stop waiting and start moving, preferably before the lion of lost opportunities starts nipping at my butt.
Photo taken on November 5, 2010
friends & neighbours
Someone commented on Twitter lately that Saint John feels like a big urban centre with a small town heart. It’s easy to fall into conversation with a stranger while waiting in line at the bank or watching the harbour seals from the boardwalk. While it’s true that many people are in a hurry or isolated in their own little bubbles, the general impression for newcomers and old timers is of a friendly city.
So when one of the vendors in the City Market asked me about my camera, I stopped to talk to him. And I found out that Daniel has a lot of interests, a lot of ideas and a lot of enthusiasm, and he loves to meet people. As we talked and passersby shopped, I remembered that Christmas is not stuff, it’s people. The spirit of Christmas is right here, in these conversations, where strangers become friends, and newcomers become neighbours.
The next time I walk through the market, I’ll be sure to say Hi to Daniel, my new friend and neighbour.
Photo taken on December 18, 2010
streets of purple
I went uptown to go shopping on Saturday, and found the city centre beautifully decorated. But then the sun set, casting a bright wash of purple colour along the streets and making the harbour glow with reflected golden light, and that was the best decoration of all.
Photo taken on December 18, 2010
(for every) madonna and child
One of the good things about this season are all the increased efforts to help others, especially children and struggling families. Here in Saint John, the big event was the Empty Stocking Fund, a region-wide telethon that featured children performing on TV raising money so that other children can have something under their Christmas tree. Another big fund raiser is the Harbour Lights campaign which raises money for food banks in southern New Brunswick. Many workplaces, churches and community organizations raise money to support projects around the city at this time of year, and the Salvation Army kettles (they even have an ikettle this year) are out in all the shopping centres collecting change to support their work with the homeless and poor. I’ve made a few contributions so far, and I plan to support another program or two before Christmas. Even small donations can help people in need. Who is on your year-end donation list?
Photo taken on November 26, 2010
a Christmas song
I’m sure it’s a nefarious plot, it’s a commercial campaign calculated to make us hate Christmas, starting with the first “Little Drummer Boy” in mid-October and ending with “Santa Baby” sometime in late December. For a solid two months, you can’t turn on the radio or step into a store without hearing the tinny strains of “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” or “O Little Town of Bethlehem”.
The Christmas Top 40 played in public venues includes a range of secular and sacred, sublime and ridiculous. You might be lulled into nostalgia by “White Christmas”, or feeling virtuous singing along with “Do They Know It’s Christmas (Feed the World)”, but then “Holly Jolly Christmas” or the “Chipmunk Song” jars you into annoyance once again. I have to admit, some renditions of old and new carols make me grit my teeth and head for the nearest exit as fast as humanly possible.
But for all my grinching, I can’t help but be caught up in the Christmas spirit, especially when the decorations are lit up at night and there’s a dusting of snow to make everything look picture perfect and it really does feel like “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year”. And those songs, well, deep down I really love them all.
Photo taken on November 26, 2010
{Edit: Thank you Lori for pointing out that it was Grandma who got run over, not Santa!}
Saint John grows up
Last night I attended the Open House for PlanSJ — the process to create Saint John’s new official plan — and had a good look at the proposed direction for city growth over the next 25 years. In a nutshell, the plan calls the city to grow up, not out.
What this means is that urban areas, where the population is denser and communities are walkable, are recognized as healthier alternatives to suburban “scatteration”. These areas including the priority neighbourhoods of the Old North End, Crescent Valley, Waterloo Village, the South End, and the Lower West Side, areas of the city which desperately need an infusion of cash and smart development and energetic citizens. And the need is desperate: despite generous support for anti-poverty initiatives and community building projects, the neighbourhoods are known more for their decrepit buildings, drug traffickers and arsonists than the tenacious citizens who are trying to make things better.
If the city follows through, if buildings worth saving are rehabilitated, if new construction replaces empty lots and eyesores, and if people are willing to move back into the urban areas to make the city core healthy and happy, then Saint John doesn’t have anything to fear from the growing suburban communities on its east and west that have been attracting city refugees for the past 20 years. But in order for this to work, the city has to make the urban neighbourhoods more attractive — to developers, business owners, and prospective residents — at the same time as ensuring that people who live at or near the poverty line aren’t pushed out of their own neighbourhoods by skyrocketing rents.
It’s a tall order; is the city up to it? I hope so!
Photo taken on November 9, 2010
don’t forget to admire the view
Yesterday was rainy and dull, and I desperately needed a boost of colour. So we went to the park.
And as so often happens (why do I so easily forget?), our walk turned into an adventure. We had the dogs with us, so the walk was energetic. After walking around the lake, we decided to follow a path that I’d often wondered about, an unsigned path that disappeared into the woods and up a steep bank. After a couple of wrong turns, we ended up at the top of a rocky hill with a fabulous panoramic view over the city. There was the colour I had been seeking, the inspiration and the energizing hike, all rolled into one.
Most of my photos were blurry, but I don’t mind. I found a fresh outlook, and stopped to admire the view, and that was exactly what I needed.
Photo taken on December 2, 2010
the ship came in (and went out again)
It’s a wry joke: Saint John is on the Bay of Fundy, which has the world’s highest tides, so it seems that as soon as our ship has come in, it goes out, it comes in, it goes out… And so it has continued for the history of the city, a tide of fame and fortune, or at least some regional importance, followed by bleak years of being a Maritime backwater.
Established in 1785 by a wave of United Empire Loyalists, buoyed by Irish and Scottish immigrants, Saint John became the transportation and manufacturing hub at the centre of a profitable trade between British North America, the Caribbean, and the United Kingdom. Then economic decline followed. The golden age of shipbuilding ended, the Great Fire of 1877 destroyed the city’s business district, and a depression sent many people west to look for jobs.
The pattern continued in the 20th century. Saint John’s ice-free port was the entry point for many goods coming into Canada in the winter. That stopped when the St. Lawrence Seaway was built in the 1950s. Shipbuilding played a huge role in reviving the city’s economy in the 1980s, but then the contracts dried up and the city lost population again.
The cruise ship industry has helped to revive the city once again, and people (including me) have been moving back to find jobs. Just two years ago, Saint John was touted as the new “energy centre” of the Maritimes. Now three potentially huge energy-related projects have been cancelled, and business and industry owners are once again tightening their belts.
So it was somewhat ironic to see Prime Minister Stephen Harper (pictured getting into his car) flying in to make an announcement (about funding for the harbour bridge) last week. Now he’s gone back to Ottawa, and the city is left to its troubles and the ceaseless tide, looking for the ship that never seems to stay in port long enough.
girders, Peel Plaza
I’ve always been drawn to construction sites. I like the square geometry of the steel girders, the ponderous dance of heavy equipment, the way the skeletal frame is formed and shaped, the way space becomes place.
It’s archeology backwards, creation instead of forensics, a community working together to create something new. It reminds me of a wedding, an event buoyed by hope, plagued by doubt and gnawed finger nails; so much could go wrong, and yet it could turn out to be so right. This particular construction site is already historied in critique and finger-pointing, threatened by the mire of politics, budgetary foreboding and the shaking of heads. So much could go wrong — in fact, already seems to be wrong — and yet, and yet (dare I say it?) it could turn out to be so right.
O fortunati, quorum iam moenia surgunt! (O Fortunate Ones, whose walls are rising now) – motto of Saint John, from Virgil’s Dido & Aeneas.
Photo taken on November 9, 2010
a standing ovation
Saint John has made a really big deal of its 225th anniversary celebrations this year. I remember the Bicentennial — that was a party! But a lot has changed in the last 25 years since that landmark event, and the city deserves to celebrate its continued survival.
It’s more than survival, it’s “thrival”. As I’ve mentioned before, there’s a new sense of energy in this city. Cruise ships are visiting throughout the summer and fall, and the waterfront and Harbour Passage area have really spiffed up one of our main assets. There is a vibrant music and arts culture here, and enough business and industry to provide a sense of well-being for much of the population. The community is active with all sorts of fund-raising programs and initiatives to improve life for people in priority neighbourhoods. There is still a lot of poverty and hardship, but there is also a lot of optimism.
This year’s highlights have included a culture festival, several musical concerts, a new arts awards celebration, a special historical celebration, a speaker series, an initiative to collect local stories, a mascot, a special community gala celebration, and the commissioning of a sculpture. And to celebrate all this, they put together a pretty impressive short film. Check it out: Saint John Arts & Culture – Then and Now. Happy birthday, Saint John!
Photo taken on September 25, 2010
architecture + puddle = fun
I am a spur-of-the-moment photographer. I tend to take ‘em as I see ‘em. That’s not to say I don’t work with different angles and compositions, and I certainly spend enough time adjusting colour, crop, contrast etc on the computer. But I have to admit that I seldom plan ahead.
Last night was an exception. I had two reasons to take photos. The first was because it was Thursday, and Utata (the Flickr photo group I participate in) always has a weekly project called Thursday walks. The second is the photo conference happening this weekend in Moncton, called Foto Expo, which is also running a contest with the theme “downtown architecture”. I didn’t get out during the daytime because I was making apple chutney, and it took longer than I expected (doesn’t it always). So that’s why I was uptown with a camera and tripod at 8 p.m. last night.
I had been wanting to take a photo of this building for a while, so last night was the perfect opportunity. Finding the puddle was a bonus. I’m really glad I planned ahead and brought the equipment I needed for this photo shoot. I spent about 40 minutes in this parking lot (my car is the 2nd from the right) and took photos of this Old Post Office building from several angles. In fact, it was so much fun, I might do it again (plan ahead, that is)!
Photo taken on October 28, 2010
red berries, ready for winter
Today is — according to the weather forecast — the last mild day of fall. I’ve acclimatized to this first change, finding that 10 degrees celcius does not feel cold after all. But after today, it turns rainy and and cold, and then sunny and cold, and then just cold… that’s when the winter coats will come out.
So I’m harvesting vegetables. I’ve been out in the garden today pulling carrots and parsnips, leeks and celeraic, and adding the last of the zucchini plants to the compost pile. Two sweet peppers I’ve potted up to see if they survive long enough to grow their pistachio-sized sweet peppers into something big enough to eat. The tomatoes, cucumbers and onions have already been picked and eaten (or preserved), and all that’s left of our scarlet runners are a few dry beans ready for planting next year.
The birds and animals have been scurrying around, collecting their harvest as well. Our rowan tree has been picked clean (I don’t know why this one in an uptown park is still covered with berries) and wild creatures of all sorts have made the wild apples behind the fence disappear. The chickadees are back at the feeder, and the purple finches and American goldfinches that kept us entertained all summer have flown south. We have a few more tasks to do — rake more leaves for mulch, empty the garden hose, store the window boxes and whirlygig, and put winter tires on the car — and then we’ll be ready. Are you ready for winter?
Taken on October 2, 2010
waiting for the fog to lift
The fog has been constant this past week. This is a stubborn fog, and nothing seems to shake it. The rain came down hard for a short time yesterday, but it was still foggy. I could hear the wind howling last night, but the fog only hugged the city tighter.
And so we are waiting. I am waiting. I am ready for change.
I have been on an extended holiday. When my contract ended at the end of June, I decided that I wouldn’t mind taking a month off. It had been a long time since I’d taken a real vacation. The month became two, then three, and now…. now it’s October. And I am ready, more than ready, for change.
I have a job interview on Monday. Wish me luck.
Taken on September 25, 2010
Saturday in the park
It was foggy yesterday. This wasn’t the vanish-with-dawn kind of fog, or even the sun-burns-through-by-noon kind of fog. This was stay-all-day fog. As I walked through the uptown streets, several times the sky seemed to brighten and I thought ‘A-ha, now the fog will lift and the sun will come out’. But it didn’t. By the time I headed home again, I think I could see a little farther down King Street, but I wouldn’t swear to it in court.
But I was born here. I grew up with fog. I like fog. And most folks here don’t seem to mind it, to judge from the number of people strolling through town and passing a pleasant afternoon in the park. If you need sunshine to enjoy your day, you’d best move to Fredericton. But if you live in Saint John, and it’s foggy, that usually means it’s not windy. It’s calm and mild and easy on the eyes. And sometimes that’s just what you need.
Taken on September 25, 2010
wake up to adventure
It’s been rainy this week, and the forecast is for more rain next week. When the weather is grey and drizmal, I have two choices:
1) curl up on the couch and catch up on my sleep/reading while I wait for nice weather
2) put on my brightest clothes, look for some eye-popping colour or play some snappy music, then go out for an adventure
An adventure is going places. It could be a walk in a nearby park or an unfamiliar neighbourhood. It could be a shopping expedition, or a drive out in the country. It could be a visit with a friend, or going out to dinner or a movie.
Whatever it is, an adventure is something to look forward to, something to do right now instead of waiting for Mother Nature or the Ship of Opportunity to ring your doorbell.
This photo is loud. It’s a wake-up alarm, a call to action. Because I really need to be a little more active. And, you know, I can’t resist red.
Taken on May 29, 2009
faded glory
The old Paramount Theatre was only one of many in Saint John when it was build in 1948, a glorious example of art deco sculpted plasterwork in the luxurious and large auditorium. Saint John, the hometown of Louis B. Mayer — a founder of the Hollywood studio Metro Goldwyn Mayer – had become the film distribution centre for all the movie theatres in eastern Canada. It was movie central here in town, but only for a brief time.The number of movie houses in the city had already started to decrease by the time this theatre was built. In the 1930s, it is said that were movies playing on every block, but the number of venues had reduced to 10 by the mid-1940s and by 1960, only four remained.
The old Odeon Theatre, one block away, was demolished in 2000. Now there is a surge in public interest as the theatre (re-named the King Square Cinema) faces the wrecking ball. It is just across the park from the Imperial Theatre, a beautifully restored and well-used performing arts centre. In contrast, the old Paramount has little left to work with — renovations in the 1970s split the theatre into two smaller cinemas, and much of the plasterwork is gone. When describing the building’s value, a local historian waxed eloquent about the staircase and bathroom tiles.
Could it be used as a live performance venue, or returned to glory as a movie theatre? It remains to be seen whether there will be enough public interest, or funding, to save the old Paramount.
Taken on September 5, 2010
keep the red on your right
A navigation beacon, a single oil lamp, was first erected here at the point of the South End peninsula in 1842. Then in 1847, it was replaced with this triple gas lampstand, known as the Three Sisters. It was refurbished in 1997.
Apparently the red colour facing the sea was visible for three miles from shore — a helpful aid in fog or dark. When coming into harbour from the Bay of Fundy, sailors would chart their course from the Three Sisters. The colour red shows the starboard limit of a channel, so they would know to keep red lamps on their right. If they could see all three red lamps, sailors would know they were heading straight into the harbour, however if only one or two could be seen, sailors knew they needed to change course. The street-side is white, so it guess it doubled as a regular streetlight.
In this photo, you can barely see a cruise ship docked in the foggy harbour. I’m glad these huge boats don’t have to rely on the Three Sisters to guide them into port!
Taken on July 11, 2009
