Erin's Journals

Just a thought… There is always light. If only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it. [Amanda Gorman]

Tomorrow would’ve been my parents’ 70^th wedding anniversary. With my dad’s passing last summer, I thought it would be an appropriate date on which to take his and Mom’s ashes to their final place of interment in Black Diamond (now combined with their hometown of Turner Valley to become “Diamond Valley”) near Calgary.

I’m grateful to have decided instead to make it next month, since our trip would have included a stop in Kelowna, where two of my sisters reside and are nervously watching the progress of huge fires all around them. Like yours, my heart is with theirs and all who are fleeing and fighting the fires that ravage our country these days. For all of the wildlife and domesticated animals trying to stay safe. For every soul. We watch and wait with them, and if you want to make a donation, here is the link.

Thanks for considering it – there are so many requests these days. The thought of people releasing their horses hopefully to stay safe in the wild is heartbreaking. I’ve seen ads on local sites in Kelowna asking for people to shelter their livestock for them. But really, there are so very many such wrenching decisions being made.

It’s an abrupt turn here, so forgive the lack of a smooth segue, to the video that I made for you this past weekend. Perhaps it will bring to mind calmer skies and smooth waters not being dipped in by the daring hero pilots of water-scooping aircraft.

Back when first I saw Pender Island, BC, accompanied by my Gracefully and Frankly partner Lisa Brandt who has an acquaintance who lives here, I fell in love at first sight with Magic Lake. You’ve seen pictures of it on my website, I’m sure. Here’s another for good measure.

A smooth manmade body of water, it is one of the sources of fresh water for residents here and we are grateful to have it.

But at the behest of my sister-in-law Sue visiting from Kingston, I took the plunge on the weekend. I’m not one for temperatures below 30C when I swim, so it was with a lot of trepidation that I got my butt into that lake. And I tell you, it was immediately so welcoming that it enveloped me in peace. In no time I was swimming underwater, eyes closed, bathed in tranquility. If I’d had a floatation device I’d had stayed in for an hour.

Lucky for you, this brief video sums it all up. Shot from afar so Rob wasn’t seen to be shooting strangers also on the dock, it’s not the highest resolution but you sure get the message. Life is short – summer is shorter – make memories while we can. And that’s what this weekend was about, made even more special when I was immersed in gratitude for the fresh air and lack of uncertainty and danger we are fortunate to be enjoying.

I wish that for all Canadians of the two- and four-legged varieties. May the coming days bring rain. I know I sure won’t dare complain. Thanks for coming by, and sharing a brief moment of pure joy.

Click here to watch the video.

Just a thought… The well of nature is full today. Go outside and take a drink. [Diane Ackerman]

*A quick important note about Drift with Erin Davis sleep stories:

If you are a listener to my tales on Spotify, you may notice that they’re missing. There’s been an interruption in the availability of my podcast on Spotify, and while we’re trying to get that rectified (a lot of flaming hoops) you can hear ALL 125+ sleep stories free, as always, at Apple, wherever you get podcasts or, perhaps most easily, here.

This will be the summer-iest blog I’ll ever write, but it comes from both the heart and the taste buds. Let’s dig in!

One of the greatest pleasures of this season in Canada is the abundance of freshly grown treasures – from corn that could make you cry with joy the way it explodes with sweetness in your mouth to tomatoes that taste like tomatoes – summer’s joyous flavours are too long to list. (But please do feel free to leave a comment on my Facebook page.

In the past few weeks on my long walks here on Pender Island, I have found but one big cluster of blackberry bushes. It’s situated just past a ditch (which puts me down another six inches below where I want to be) but I put my long monkey arms to good use. With the occasional help of a stick, I’m able to bring the higher branches down to me, so that I can gently tug to see if they’re ready to give up their clustered amethysts.

These spiky bushes don’t give up without a fight…

…and occasionally I’m plucking out a tiny sharp spike that’s made its way into my clothes or my skin. But the taste of a berry warmed by the sun on your joyous tongue? I’d squeal with delight if my mouth wasn’t full.

This long weekend, as we start into the next (hopefully gentler) chapter of summer in Canada, I leave you with a brief video (click here) taken while I was thinking of how picking blackberries is so much like life. Enjoy this. Taste the sweetness that life has to offer. And if you can, try to savour every second of our precious, golden summer, won’t you? I’ll be back this Thursday with Lisa Brandt and episode 188 of Gracefully and Frankly. Enjoy!

Just a thought… Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy. [Leo Buscaglia]

Welcome to the waning days of July. If you’ve suffered through heat, fire and smoke (as some truly have), you may be happy to see August’s gentler golden days on the horizon. May they bring safe returns to home for so many who are still wondering what they’ll return to. While we here in our area (on BC’s Gulf Islands) have been spared the hardships of those endured by many Canadians this summer, our hearts are with you.

A few people commented on last Monday’s blog when I told you about my Little House effect: the baking, the cooking, the hosting (just one guest – let’s not get carried away) and feeling so deeply grounded in this little tiny piece of a small Gulf Island. By the way, don’t miss the wonderful low-sugar, high protein greek yogurt blueberry muffin recipe in that blog. Rob’s still raving. I guess I’ll have to make more….

If anyone had said to me ten years ago, “You’re soon going to leave Toronto and find yourself in a spot that is small and isolated, where you’ll talk to your dogs more in a day than you do to humans, and you’re going to be so deeply joyful that you cannot fathom it,” I’d have said something akin to “cow droppings.” You know what I would have said.

But experience has taught me – and possibly you – that this is how life works. I’m not saying that this sense of peace that goes to my bones morning ’til night is something that everyone will find, especially after losing a child or someone dear to you, as Rob and I did 11 years ago. I would have neither the insensitivity nor the temerity to suggest it’s even possible! And yet, here we are.

I remember in the early 20-teens, sitting on our small Toronto condo balcony on a warm summer evening and saying to Rob that we were in a blissful bubble at that moment. Yes, my mom had died a few years prior, but we knew that she was at peace, as we had to be with losing her. Our friend Debbie Cooper, whose birthday it is today, had not yet been diagnosed with the colon cancer that would eventually claim her life. At the time of my observation, my radio partnership with Debbie’s husband Mike was joyful and successful, we had a grown daughter who was finding her way in the big wide world of radio (perish the thought today), and Rob and I were solid in our love and marriage. Now, only the last of those things still exists.

So here’s the thing, my friend: the trick is not to seek the bubble, or wish for it, but to know when you’re in it. To also recognize that although all may not be perfect (Mom died suddenly of an aneurysm and 78 was too young for her to go) it’s good. It’s very good.

The other thing that time and life teach us is to know that in that moment of seeming perfection, we also have to acknowledge that, as in all good and all bad, “This, too, shall pass.” One day Rob and I will have to age out of our place here. One of us could get sick or become unable to take the stairs up to our loft bedroom. Anything could happen: fire, falling trees, earthquake. But do we worry about that? No.

Why would we lose one moment of joy, putting our minds towards things that have not happened, and may not happen? It’s human nature, unless we set our minds to be here now. To know that this moment, this one precious life, this blink of an eye in the story of the universe is all we get. This tenuous, glorious bubble.

Just a thought… My baking is like partnership: it’s not easy, there’s often a bit of a mess, but if there’s love and effort, no matter the outcome, we can usually be grateful. [Erin Davis]

Just a Day in the Life – this past Saturday – so many highs and I couldn’t resist sharing a few with you today.

On Friday our friend Chris, who was an extraordinary commercial producer at CHFI but now lives in Vancouver and does freelance work, came over on two ferries to spend the weekend with us on Pender.

He and Rob worked together on our little deck, we visited the local farmers’ market, and even checked out the Airstream where Pender Radio broadcasts from.

Lisa Brandt and I have donated our weekly Gracefully and Frankly podcast episodes which air Sunday mornings at 9 am on the local volunteer-run station. It’s my and our little way of giving back to a place that has already given us so much. So it was nice to see the setup and it made me miss radio a lot.

So you can imagine the thrill I got when I received a comment on an Instagram post that afternoon, saying I was a clue in the Saturday Globe and Mail crossword. I thought she must be mistaken but looked it up and, sure enough, there I was!

Rob being who he is, he gave me the takedown that my dad would have: “Who is it – FRED Davis?” and then said, “Calm your tits, it’s not like you were an answer on Wordle.” We laughed, and then Chris proceeded to call me Marilyn. So there you go. No ego trips here, my friend!

While the boys sawed, screwed and swore (only a bit of the latter), I made crispy onion/cheese bites to have with their hot dog lunch….

Later, a dinner of barbecued chicken was augmented by a potato salad (my favourite weird ingredient is dill pickle relish) and focaccia bread that takes a few days to rise in the fridge and is dead simple. Except that this time it didn’t get the bubbles and rise the way I wanted it to. Oh well, the boys liked it…that’s what counts.

Then I got super ambitious and made the boys Greek yogurt/blueberry muffins to have for dessert. Good for breakfast too, as Chris and Livi will attest!

Something about this tiny cabin makes me want to bake and nest! There are greasy smears on my laptop from toggling through three recipes at the same time, our small oven got a workout and the power stayed on. Rob and Chris were happy and well fed, and the dogs have an extra lap for cuddling.

Call it the Little House on the Prairie effect (having watched the first season of the new and excellent series re-up on Netflix) but considering I mostly watch true crime and murder documentaries, I could have leaned in a completely different direction. Rob’s much safer this way – and happy, too. All in all, I’d say that was one perfect weekend. Hope yours was, too!

Just a thought… Be brave enough to be bad at something new. [Jon Acuff]

I was never that person. Never an athlete, but only an “okay, I guess I have to do this…” kind of gym-goer. I’ll never be a runner, and my idea of a long walk was putting in air pods, starting up my step counter and a favourite podcast, and heading out on the streets or roads of wherever I find myself these days. However, on Friday something in me shifted.

It was through the gentle persistence of a neighbour here on Pender Island, whose small, lithe body is the very picture of athleticism. An avid paddler (kayaking) and cyclist (definitely not an e-bike), Jenn is also a serious hiker. So when I arrived on the island Thursday evening to this text, I was hesitant.

“Orca Day? I’m in!” I said to Rob. But I’d done just part of that Shingle Bay park a week ago, found myself getting a little lost, saw that my step counter had me already at the equivalent of 37 flights of stairs and turned around to head back home. It seemed beyond my abilities and I knew that being out alone with just my phone and a terrible sense of direction, I should play within my limits.

I asked how long the walk would be and later determined Jenn hadn’t lied: about 8 km. With not just a little trepidation, I agreed on a meetup time and under filtered sunshine and with comfortable temperatures awaiting, I was ready to head out when I realized with horror that my hiking shoes were back in Sidney! I’d worn them home last Monday and then came back over in my Skechers. Ugh. They’re not exactly built for hiking over rocks and steep inclines and declines, but I wasn’t going to back out.

Off we went, through gentle short trails and brief stretches of paved country roads, eventually making it to the Pender Museum. There, we got to hear John Pender, an ancestor of the first non-Indigenous settler to the island, talk about his roots as well as the legends and firsthand sightings of giant sea serpents in our area. We heard a young Indigenous woman tell us the story of how the orca began as a wolf who, with the help of a raven, found his way into the sea and began life again there.

We listened in as a dozen or so locals sat in a circle and played acoustic tunes. We perused the museum, looked at outdoor displays of whale teeth and various other animal parts, enjoyed conversing with Parks employees and met a few more of our fellow islanders. It was soon time for Jenn and me to say good-bye to the husbands who had come over to the museum by car to meet up with us and partake in the afternoon’s activities.

Then it was on to the strenuous part of our journey: Jenn and I headed off for the look-out part of the hike. And here’s where I needed to toughen up.

It was on one very steep forest path that I just put my head down and kept going, one step at a time, following my friend’s lead. I reminded myself during that stretch that I had survived giving birth and I was going to make it up this mountain. In fact, I was remembering that the nurses offered me a mirror as Lauren was crowning, but I didn’t want to see how much farther I still had to go. That’s how I felt on this hike: just keep going, keep pushing, and you’ll get there.

We did. This is the view that a backless but welcome bench afforded us upon our arrival.

We didn’t see any whales – just this guy at the Pender Museum. Maybe the rest of them were out partying on their big day.

Now, there were a few eagles circling far below us. Could’ve been worse: might have been vultures above us! The best part of the whole day was the literal hours that we spent talking, sharing our stories, our journeys that brought us both here, our troubles and our wisdom. Oh, and there were plenty of laughs, a few well-placed expletives and just connection on an otherwise isolated trail.

The descent was the trickier part of the day. Leaves on the path made getting a grip in my stupid sneakers more challenging and only once did I slip and nearly lose my footing. I picked up a branch and used it as a walking stick, eventually getting a finger puncture for my troubles. Again, though, the mantras of “one step at a time” and “don’t look too far down the path, just get to the next level space” served me well.

As the walk ended, I not only felt an immense sense of accomplishment, but a bit of a renewed purpose. That night I was ordering collapsible walking sticks (one for Rob should he want it) for the next time I need a bit of stability help on a decline. I looked into a small hiking backpack to take the place of the waist purse I used, so I could put a water bottle in it and free up my hands to grab trees or potentially break a fall.

While I don’t expect a weekly hike will be the norm – it did take a fair bit of Saturday for my legs to feel more like they usually do – I won’t rule it out, either. The pains of giving birth didn’t end when the pushing was done, just as my body didn’t let me forget right away what I’d put it through (12.2 km, 17,000+ steps and the equivalent of 87 flights of stairs).

Has anything worthwhile ever come easily, without a bit of fear and doubt? Not ever for me, anyway. And I just may have gotten the hint of a new passion sparked within me. We’ll see. Just as long as none of the outings starts before noon, I’m great!

Speaking of new goals, Lisa Brandt and I passed a milestone on the weekend (a quarter million downloads) and wanted to thank you for making us at Gracefully and Frankly part of your week. If you haven’t yet tried it, we have a short clip to introduce you to it, here.

So please share the love and if you have friends who haven’t tried podcasts yet, we’d love to be their first. Or yours! Why not try something new? I promise you it’s free, and way easier than hiking!

And, by the way, I’ll have a new sleep story for you tomorrow on Drift called Fawn In the Wood.