Ambleside Tiddly Cove Lions Club Christmas Sale
Few things say ‘Christmas’ to me more than the smell of a fresh cut . I always know that Christmas is just around the corner when I’m walking along the seawall and catch that first whiff of the season from the Lions Club tree sale down at the Ambleside parking lot.
It takes me immediately back to childhood, which is funny because growing up we never had one of these beautiful trees. There were no White Spruce or Noble Firs at our house… Back then my mom and dad were ardent fans of the Taiwanese Pine – a special variety of tree that was native to the back of our furnace room. As a kid I knew that Christmas was just around the corner when that massive box got dug out of the back of the furnace room and we all went into coughing fits from all the dust being kicked up.
Looking back on it, we probably couldn’t have afforded a live tree at the time, but honestly? I never felt poor. The assembling the tree was one of my favourite Christmas traditions, right up there with the hanging of the stockings, writing letters to Santa and hunting for where mom had hidden all the unwrapped Christmas .
The finding of the presents was an epic battle of wits between me and my mother that began as early as mid November. By age 8 I was a seasoned veteran and knew all the prime parent hiding locations. Bottom of the laundry hamper? Checked… Inside the drier? Well played mom… well played. Never thought to look there until years later. Under my own bed??! Clever mom… but not clever enough! I enjoyed playing with my Micro-naughts Mobile Exploration Lab surreptitiously after bedtime for almost 2 whole weeks before Christmas that year!
But my mom was no slouch. She and her many siblings had invented this game, and they were pretty much Olympians in this particular sport. As kids they would drive my poor grandmother around the bend with finding, swapping and rewrapping all the hidden presents. And of course, the smuggling of the wrapped presents from under the tree into the washroom for a quick peek was an endless source of amusement for all involved… except for grandma.
Apparently one year, my Grandmother got so mad at her 6 kids for getting into the presents that she stopped in the middle of making Christmas eve dinner and announced:
“If one more of you little so much as touches another present you are going to bring all of your
into the kitchen and they are going to be burned in the oven!!!
Now with my grandma, this could not be taken as just an idle threat. For one thing, she was cooking on a wood stove… and for another thing Grandma was pretty rough around the edges.
Grandma’s parents had died when she was young, and she and her brother had been placed in a Catholic Orphanage and separated. Unfortunately this was not one of the orphanages where the nuns flew or all broke into spontaneous song and dance numbers… this was the other kind of Catholic orphanage… and my grandmother had run away and was on the street when she was 14.
But somehow she found her way, married a good man and the 2 of them had a large family. And while she was pretty tough and no nonsense, she took in a ton of foster kids and over the years a lot of folks who needed a home found one with her. But at this moment, she wasn’t 'feeling the Christmas spirit' and my poor uncle Bob just couldn’t resist touching the presents one more time despite having just received such a dire warning…
Bad move Bob.
My grandma with wooden spoon in hand marched poor Bob into the living room, had him gather up all his presents and then place them in front of the wood stove in the kitchen.
Now my mom and her other siblings, feeling very fortunate that it was Bob who had been caught and not them, were remarkably supportive. “Over here… you missed a present Bob!” “Don’t forget about this present behind the tree BOB!” “Wow, this big box is heavy BOB… It must be something special. I’ll help you bring it into the kitchen…”
Yup… remarkably supportive. And poor Bob was reduced to a blubbering mess before Grandma finally relented and let him put his presents back under the tree.
Now full disclosure – I was laughing pretty hard as I typed out this true little story, and oddly enough it actually gives me a bit of a warm glow in my heart when I think about it. But the warm glow in my heart isn’t from Bob’s ‘misfortune’ (which ok, fine, was hilarious and ok it did make me smile a little or even a lot).
But when I think about this story it reminds me of number of things… It reminds me that few things smell better than a fresh cut , and that you don’t need an expensive tree or even a live one to capture the feeling of Christmas. Growing up, we didn’t have a lot. We couldn’t afford a real tree, I often wore second hand cloths out of necessity, and I would frequently get socks and underwear as ‘presents.’ But I never felt poor, probably because I had an abundance of the things that mattered.
I’m reminded that Christmas isn’t found under the tree… Christmas is found around it – with friends and family and all their faults... as well as their kindnesses.
So happy holidays to you all. I hope you have an abundance of the things in your life that truly matter. I also hope Santa brings you something nice, and if you absolutely positively must have a little peek under the wrapping…. then I hope you don’t have a wood burning stove in your kitchen!
Merry Christmas!



My best memory of the Elbow Room Cafe? ❤☕🍽 ❤ On my very first visit I was coming in the front door when I got knocked flat by 2 tourists leaving the cafe in a huff. 🤬 I suspect they had only just arrived... but I think that they got more than they had bargained for! I’m 95% sure that they lacked a fundamental understanding of what the Elbow Room was all about, and I'm 100% certain that they lacked a particular sense of humor. Going to the Elbow Room... you had to know what you were in for.
The place was only slightly larger than a postage stamp and could seat 20... with synchronized breathing. There was always a lineup on the weekends... and then there was the sign on the wall which read: Food and service is our name, but ABUSE is our game!
That was a large part of what made the place so popular. Yes, the food was excellent and the portions gargantuan (if you didn’t finish your meal then out would come the tin can for you to donate to the Loving Spoonful charity)... but it was the good natured abuse that would be hurled at you with a wink and a smile that made the place so special. “Get your own d@mn coffee” was a refrain heard many times when somebody asked for a refill... and heaven help you if you asked for decaf...
And honestly? It was wonderful... the cafe had a unique voice that was playful and authentic. Owners Patrice, Brian and their staff really created something more than just a great breakfast scene... they created a small world in a big city that became a part of the fabric of the West End.
I was sad to learn that Brian passed away several years ago, and I understand that Patrice made the difficult decision to close the restaurant’s doors a few years back after a wonderful, decades-long run as a restauranteur. You don’t find a lot of places like the Elbow Room these days... places with great food, great community and great vibe. Heck, these days it sometimes feels like a challenge to even find places great service, and I guess that shouldn’t be surprising... Because at the heart of great service... you will always find those who serve with great heart.
Thank you Elbow Room, for decades of serving us from the heart and for giving us so many great memories! You are loved and missed. ❤
Hardy's 6"x9" - $100
Question - what was your favorite candy 🍫 AND favorite store to buy it at when you were growing up?
Part of the right of passage through any childhood used to involve those summer trips to the corner store, with pockets full of change that you saved up to buy some treats with your friends. Back then there was a corner store like this one in most neighborhoods. This is Hardy's in North Vancouver, right near the Cleveland Dam - no idea how many generations of kids have gone there, but that number has got to be getting up there.
These types of stores were usually just an old 🏡 in the neighborhood that someone had converted (and probably lived on top of), and honestly? They were great! As a kid I loved these trips to the store with my buddies. Back then comic books were 25 cents and you could even get some candies at 2 for a penny - these were the ones that usually weren't of the highest quality - but when you are a kid, it's all about volume!
My friends and I would actually make a whole day out of it - we'd spend an hour or 2 collecting bottles first, and then we would load up on candy with all that recycling money!
Mmm... the freedom to roam around the neighborhood unsupervised and eat piles of 💩- today if I let my kids do that I'm almost 100% sure that someone would be reporting me to the ministry of Children and Families for neglect of some form or another, but those were great independent days, and I think most of us turned out ok despite all of the red dye number 5 we ingested and goodness knows what else that were in those pop rocks that I devoured! ;-) (my favorite candy)
‘Vancouver, You’re Beautiful’ ❤12”x18” Pen and Ink - $700
One of the things that makes the Greater Vancouver Area so special is that we are seemingly surrounded by rivers and oceans. Makes for a tough commute with all the bridge traffic🚙🚎🚑, but at least you’ve got something beautiful to look at while you’re stuck in rush hour.
When I was growing up, my mom took our sister everywhere on the North Shore transit system. It couldn’t have been easy with 2 small kids in tow, and I definitely didn’t make it any easier on her.
My mom believed that, seeing as we were surrounded by water, it was essential that her kids learn how to swim 🏊♀️at a young age. So, one summer she decided to sign me up for swimming lessons. Seems like a good idea, right? Problem was, all the lessons at the local pool were full – so she had to sign me up for lessons at the pool just off of Lonsdale, which was a multi-bus trip there… 🚎🚎🚎and back. 🚎🚎🚎The other problem was I refused to go. 🛑🛑🛑
I was terrified of the pool. It was big and noisy and crowded… oh, and then there was the water… I was petrified of the deep end, and our instructor had told us that next week we would be swimming in that end of the pool. At the ripe old age of 6ish(?) I decided, ‘that wasn’t happening’ and thus began the greatest series of games of hide and seek ever played between a kid and an irate parent.
Such was my desire to avoid the deep end of the pool that my 6 year old brain developed some truly fiendish hiding spots… including the bottom of the laundry hamper... and inside the cloths drier…And while my mom would eventually find me, I had realized that all I had to do was stay hidden long enough that we would miss our bus, and I think the score was something like ‘kid – 4, irate mother - 0’… that is until my mother got smart.
One morning she got me ready early, let me hide, waited 10 minutes, and then told me that we had missed the bus. When I popped up like a grinning gopher from behind the couch she shouted ‘Gotcha!’ and literally carried me under her arm out the door to get to our bus stop on time. And I’m pretty certain that she must have been feeling pretty smug about things as the bus pulled out into traffic with us halfway down the isle… that is, right until, in the middle of the bus, I ‘might’ have possibly said (at the top of my lungs): ‘YOU’RE NOT MY MOTHER!!!’ and ‘I DON’T KNOW YOU!!!’ and possibly a few other phrases that we had just learned the week prior at school during a lesson on ‘stranger danger’.
Needless to say, we DIDN’T make it to swimming lessons that day either. And I’m pretty sure that I may be going to hell for that little stunt. But it did all work out ok in the end… I did eventually learn how to swim, my mom did grudgingly forgive me, and at some point long after that... my mom and I were both FINALLY allowed back on public transit.
Happy Mother’s Day Mom. To you and to every mom everywhere – you all have the heart and the patience of a saint, and there is no one who is more dear in our hearts. ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
7"x10" Pen and Ink $200
Dear Vancouver... 🏢🏬🏣🏥🏗🛕
You may have noticed that I haven’t been around in a while. I think it’s time that we had a chat.
Just to be clear... it’s not you... it's me.
You’re still wonderful, with your nightlife, and your amazing restaurants... and hey, I hear your hockey 🏒 team just made it into the second round – congrats! Shame about your goalies though...
It’s just that... I’m living on the North Shore now. Sure, The North Shore is not as glamorous and modern as you... but it is so green🌳🌲🌳🌲 here... and beautiful... and quiet at night 🌙⭐️. And there’s the seawall and Lynn Canyon and the Shipyard District... and I can actually find parking!🚙
Look, I’m not trying to draw a comparison here. You are your own city and you’ve got to do you. We had some good moments together, like Expo 86... and all those runs through Stanley Park were good times... but I think I’ve found a place that is a little more my speed.
You’re still beautiful. But I think I’m just going to admire you from now on from my side of the bridge.
Sketchy
Mother's Day is only 2 weeks away... so I'm bringing back my 2 for 1 PRINT SALE!! ❤ Buy any one of my images as a print and receive a second, identically sized print of that image for FREE :-)
Prints are available of almost any of the images that I share online. All prints are produced on thick, museum grade paper with archival ink that will insure your print looks vibrant and full of life for decades to come.
8.5"x11" prints are $75 and 13"x19" prints are $125. Please message me with any questions and I will be happy to help.
NOTE: My Mothers Day print sale is by far my most popular sale of the year, and having checked inventory I have enough paper to fulfill 17 '2 for 1' orders. This was by far the most well received special offer I ran last year, so if you are interested then don't delay ;-) This offer is for pickup only. Thanks!
12x18 inches. Pen and Ink. $600
Sometimes... when I think about growing up on the North Shore... my life feels like an embarrassment of riches. I feel like a kid who has received WAY too many presents on Christmas morning. Which reminds me of a story...
For many years, my wife Lisa and I wanted children. I was not as hell bent on the matter as she was... but there is a lot of truth to the expression that ‘A happy wife makes a happy life.’ So, I went along for the ride...
Unfortunately, for reasons unknown, we were not able to conceive. After years of trying, we decided to explore adoption. While I would not wish the anguish of what we went through on anyone, I cannot imagine my life ultimately arriving at a better place. Both my kids are wonderful. They are smart, kind, hardworking and I could not be prouder of them. But when we adopted them, we adopted more than just two children.
These days most adoptions tend to have a degree of ‘openness’ to them. With traditional adoptions, except in rare circumstances, the adopting family and the birth family had little or no interaction with each other and often a child would never know anything of their biological family. With an open adoption, a measure of connection between biological and adoptive families is kept. It is often as simple as exchanging occasional letters and photos, but occasionally it turns into something as complex and wonderful as ours.
My children come from two separate biological families... and we have a deep and meaningful relationship with both of them. My kids are deeply connected to their birth parents AND their extended families. In fact, I think it is safe to say that both my children have as strong a connection with their biological grandparents as they do with my parents... maybe stronger.
Although I was scared at first (OK... terrified) of inviting other relatively unknown people into our lives to share something as precious as our children, it was without question the best thing we could have done. Instead of my children having unanswered questions about where they come from, they have deep and meaningful relationships with their birth families - they are surrounded with love.
My family has gotten a whole lot bigger as a result of adoption and I have been just so grateful for our extended family... with the possible exception early on during a few Christmas mornings!
Whether you are a parent or a grandparent, it’s only natural to want to spoil kids a little bit on Christmas morning, and there’s nothing very wrong with that... except if you consider how many family members were spoiling our kids! There was me and my wife Lisa, my mom and dad, Lisa’s mom (her dad had passed away) and other cousins and uncles... but then there were their biological parents... and their parents... and their grandparents... Can you see where this is going??? Christmas morning at our house looked like a cross between Santa’s workshop and the trouble with tribbles (look up the 1967 Star Trek reference if you want to get that little inside joke). It was bananas! My daughter was so little we actually lost her under the wrapping! And half way into the festivities my young son just started bawling because he was completely overwhelmed. And I was pretty much ready to join my son with the water works...
For many years I have been trying to be a minimalist. I try not to collect things – and certainly not plastic stuff that in short order will just find its way into a landfill. What was I going to do? This was nuts... I wanted to tell folks “Please... please... you are being so generous... TOO generous! Ease up – I beg you!”
But I also didn’t want to offend ANYBODY (biological or otherwise) who so clearly just wanted to be a part of my children’s lives. I was on the horns of a dilemma, and for a few moments there, I felt like I was going to have a panic attack.
But a few rum and eggnogs later, I had calmed down sufficiently to be able to find a different perspective. Yes, it was nuts... but it would eventually simmer down (It did). Our extended family is still very generous when it comes to gift giving, but what they really shower the kids with now is THEIR TIME – and I can’t think of a better way to show your love for a child than to spend your time with them.
Eventually I finished my eggnog, picked up more of the wrapping and quietly re-boxed a number of toys where I knew that they would find a good home with some other families that were not quite as fortunate as ours. And as I stood there in the last, ankle deep remnants of Christmas morning, I thought to myself, ‘Yes, it’s an embarrassment of riches, but what this is? It’s a richness in LOVE... and I don’t know if anyone can ever have too much love in your life.
So why do I share this story with you? I was out with my sketching gear the other day, and I was trying to figure out what to sketch... “Should I sketch Ambleside? What about Cypress? Grouse? The Cove? Cates Park? The Lions? The list of all the wonderful things that I could be sketching started growing and growing and then... right when I thought this was getting ridiculous? I look up and notice the stunningly beautiful view Prospect Point and Stanley Park that I see every single day and yet somehow manage to take for granted. It was a flashback to Christmas morning all over again... only this time it was beauty instead of love... and like love... I don’t think you can ever have too much beauty in your life.
My goodness... we are so VERY fortunate!
7"x10" pen and ink - $200
The story that goes with this piece is in no way intended to be even remotely political – it’s just a personal reflection on gardening… and hope.
If you’ve ever driven down 2200 block Haywood in West Van and wondered: “What is that man doing standing there in the middle of his yard seemingly staring at nothing, then you are not alone. My wife catches me doing this on an almost weekly basis… and it’s starting to weird her out.
When she asks me what I’m doing, I’m forced to lie. And it’s clear from the look of incredulity on her face that I just haven’t been lying with sufficient skill or enthusiasm in order to make the lies at least seem somewhat credible. But the thing is, I dare not tell her the truth – to do so would be to risk being enrolled in couples therapy – and I’m just not sure I’m up for that.
But the truth? The truth is that when I’m standing out there in the middle of the yard with an inscrutable look on my face – there’s really only one thought on my mind: I want to obliterate our front yard. Seriously… obliterate… it… Go nuclear, so to speak…
This has been simmering in the back of my brain for a while now – but it has really been my lawn that has clarified my emotional state on the matter. I hate that @#$ lawn. I hate mowing it. I hate fertilizing and aerating it. I hate trimming it. And I hate what those CHAFER BEATTLES have been doing to it.
Chafer beetles, in case you are unaware, are a jolly little invasive species from England - a grub that speaks with a British accent. Only instead of being a good natured British export that loves crumpets and tea… They love eating lawns, specifically the roots of your lawn… my lawn… and the neighborhood animals absolutely LOVE eating chafer beetles – and tearing up my lawn in the process.
Apparently they are delicious. In an effort to devour them the crows are pecking my lawn into oblivion. And the racoons? Within the matter of a few seconds the racoons are able to skillfully roll up my lawn to extract the beetles with the speed and skill with which a mafia hitman is able to roll up a body in a carpet for disposal.
It’s unnerving…
I tried everything to get rid of them and the animals who feed on them. Sprinklers… chemical treatments… I even tried applying my lawn with coyote urine on a windy day to deter the animals that eat them. Now THAT was a long afternoon, and after FINALLY getting the taste of coyote urine out of my mouth? To quote the immortal words of Frank Costanza: “I thought to myself – there has GOT to be a better way…”
This lawn was killing me. I hated mowing it, resented having to wake up at 5 am to water it, was concerned about the negative environmental impacts of fertilizing it, and was frustrated to see that large chunks of it had died due to the restricted watering… and these giant brown patches had never grown back.
Plus, as you may have already ascertained… I’m not that partial to coyote urine.
Someone once said: “If you want to make small changes, change how you DO things. But if you want to make BIG changes? Change how you SEE things!” And that’s why I’ve been out in the middle of my yard staring at it. I see that maybe this yard could be completely rethought. Instead of having depleted soil that needs the support of chemical fertilizing, and a lawn that was basically a monoculture that was susceptible to invasive species and not drought tolerant…
… what if I got rid of my lawn? What if I replaced it with a diverse mix of native ground covers, including plants that would actually put nitrogen back into the soil instead of me having to pour fertilizer onto the soil? A diverse mix of fescue and clovers and daisies and yarrow and chamomile that would provide food for birds and pollinators as well as a hardy year-round ground cover that was resistant to pests and required only minimal watering. What if I got rid of the ornamental bushes that I didn’t particularly care for and replace them with native grasses and plants and heritage fruit trees. What if instead of letting all my water run off when it rains I built a few small swales and a tiny pond for birds that would retain water and hydrate the soil to further reduce the need for watering in the dog days of summer?
What if, instead of just doing things the way I had always done it I took a risk and created a space that felt beautiful, wild and free? A little oasis for birds and insects and local wildlife… and me?
This is a sketch of what I think my yard COULD be. I even added a tiny little English tool shed that would double as a photography blind to let me photograph the birds…
I know it will be challenging. I know I will make mistakes and that some neighbours might not understand what I’m doing… But I know in my heart that this is likely a better yard for our planet that seems like it could use our help right now. I know my wife will get over the change eventually and I know in my heart that this will make me happy.
And I know that it sure beats the taste of coyote urine. Trust me on that one, even if you don’t trust me on the rest of it.
Thanks for listening to my musings on hope and gardening.
Wish me luck in couples therapy!


















This is a sketch of the Amalfi Coast in Southern Italy. It reminds me a bit of Sentinel Hill in West Vancouver except for the fact that it’s a fair bit warmer and more colourful. It’s such an incredible setting, and it’s on my bucket list for places to sketch in depth once I retire from my day job.
This is the type of setting where I just want to be able to wander around with my sketchbook and paint palette with no where in particular to be… and all day to get there.
For me a place like this is all about the discovery. Wandering down little streets. Checking out local restaurants off the beaten paths, and hiking in the hills above to try to get a view that captures the magic and essence of the place.
As North Shore weather continues to improve and the days get a little longer, I’ll be venturing out more locally with my sketchbook. Deep Cove may be one of my next projects – I’d like to do 4-6 sketches of the cove looking at it from different perspectives. I’ve also got a fun sketch of ‘The Black Cat’ that I’m just putting the finishing touches on, and as fun a subject matter as it was to sketch, the story behind it is even more interesting.
Hope you are all having a wonderful long weekend!
Ian
I always wanted a treehouse growing up. I loved spending time in trees – I was an absolute daredevil when it came to climbing. One time, back when I was around 7, I climbed up this HUGE cedar tree on our property… and I climbed WAY up! I was easily 60 feet off the ground if I was a foot. Probably closer to 100 feet up… The world looked very small from up there. I remember my mom coming out from the cabin looking for me and just about having a heart attack when she realized where I was.
I’m surprised my parents never built me a treehouse, although if they had? I’m not sure that they ever would have gotten me out of it!
There’s something about a treehouse… it’s not just being able to look down upon the world – it’s also the sense of peace and tranquility being up amongst the foliage. A tree fort is a place to plan and scheme and dream. It’s a place to read books and conspire with friends. It’s a place for imagination and adventure and solitude…
I wish I had made a treehouse for my own kids. They are too old now. But if I’m lucky enough to have grandkids? I think I’d like to build them something like this.
‘Street Life’ 7”x10” pen and ink - $200. The important thing to remember is that ‘a drawing is really just a line that has gone for a walk’
. This image of life on an Amsterdam street was done as one single continuous line… it took hours to complete the initial sketch but it made for a very interesting result. Inking it in went MUCH faster. I chose the subject matter for two reasons. 1. It’s a trip that I want to take with my wife when we retire, and 2. I love the sense of place that this city imparts- the colours, the bicycles
, the
boats
and waterways and flowers
- it’s a space made for people not for
. It’s incredibly livable and visually striking and I think we could all use some more of that in our daily lives.
7"x10" - pen and ink. $250
When I was a young man, for a brief period I lived in a basement suite over on Vancouver’s East side. ‘Unfinished’ would be a charitable way of describing it… definitely of the character-building variety. It was warm and it was dry …and it was rent that I could afford. But I never chose to spend any more time there than was absolutely necessary.
Fortunately, Commercial Drive was only a short-ish walk away.
The Drive could have been over by the Atlantic Ocean, and I still would have found a way to make the trek to get over there a couple of times a week. Staying alone in that basement suite just made me feel isolated and depressed.
But ‘The Drive’? Back then, the Drive was really jumping – there was this great street organic culture and vibe that made it special. It was still little Italy back then with all the pizzerias, cafes and bakeries, but there were also funky shops and cool restaurants and so many interesting things to check out… it was its own unique ‘public space’ that was seemingly tailor made for exploring and hanging out.
A lot of people are not aware that the word pub is actually the shortened version of ‘public house’ – a phrase that first made its appearance in the 17th century. Back then, if you were a city dweller, your apartment was pretty small, bleak and unpleasant (kind of like my basement suite). Public houses or ‘pubs’ weren’t just a place to have a beer, they were a place to go to and experience connection – a place that would allow you to get out, to hang out, and to socialize.
This made me think of Lower Lonsdale right now. I really love the vibe that’s going on around the Lower Lonsdale area – it feels like a ‘public space’ – a place to hang out and connect with others. I feel like Dundarave in West Van is also working its way in that direction… and I love it.
Lower Ambleside along Bellevue is also showing some promise, although Ambleside’s Marine Drive is causing me some concern. I was walking around there the other day and, sure, there’s still a lot of places that I enjoy… but I see yet another Money Exchange, Nail Bar, tutoring academy… dollar store… Nothing wrong with these things in and of themselves, but when your main street starts filling up with these sorts of things – when they become the main focus of the neighbourhood - it stops becoming a public space. It stops becoming a place where people want to go to and hang out. The neighborhood loses its identity and it just becomes a space that people are moving through.
These days I may live in a 3- story character home(and not in the basement), but I still feel the need to get out and connect, and I suspect that’s true for all of us, no matter the size of our ‘digs’. I’m so very glad that we have these public spaces. They matter, and they should be preserved and strengthened.
They foster community.
20" x 26" with simple white frame - pen and ink.
“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien
When I look at this image that I made of West Vancouver, I can’t help but think about that quote from Tolkien’s story ‘The Hobbit’. For years I’ve wondered if I might be part Hobbit. My feet are certainly hairy enough – just ask my wife. True… I might be a little tall to be a hobbit at my present height. But at the rate I’m shrinking? I’m sure in another decade or two my stature will be sufficiently diminutive to allow me to pass for one of these smaller folk.
I also have a hobbit’s demeanour – I’m very social and love guests, but not of the uninvited variety. And I don’t care for large crowds – I’m artful at disappearing when people get loud or boisterous. Plus I’m perfectly content to sip my tea and read my book by the fire… I’d much rather enjoy my creature comforts than go on some adventure - although like some of the Baggins clan, adventures do have a way of seemingly finding me…
All very Hobbit ‘Ish.
But the clincher for me might just be that many hobbits seem to make their homes in the side of a hill, surrounded by grass and trees and flowers, kind of like in this picture. The view here is of Ambleside and Sentinel Hill, as seen from a few hundred feet offshore. It was constructed from multiple images spanning several decades in time. I was trying to capture that ‘shire-like’ quality that I remember so well of small houses dotting the hills surrounded in a sea of green, where life was calm and orderly and good natured… and perhaps a few adventures took place… from time to time.
'Ashdale Gallery' - 6"x9" pen and ink. Sold.
Do you remember one of your favorite hangout spots from over the years? I’ve had a few... Places to meet up with friends, grab a 🍺 or a ☕… or maybe just sit quietly and do a little 👩🦱🧔♂️💂🧛♂️ watching… it’s different for everyone but I figure everyone has their favorite.
I used to love browsing the old second-hand bookstore beside the Max’s convenience store on Marine Drive. For the life of me I can’t remember the name (anyone?). But I do remember all the piles of 📔📒📕📗📘📙 stacked up in the isles from the floor to the ceiling! A visit here entailed a real possibility of getting lost for a good hour or more… which would suit me fine. I’ve never seen the risk of getting lost in a pile of books as a drawback.
Now Frank Baker’s Attic was a little before my time, but from everything I’ve heard including the Bond 🏎 and the fig leaves in the washrooms… I have no doubt that I would have been a regular there like Norm was on Cheers if I’d been born just a few years earlier. “Sketchy!” 🍺
I had some wonderful times at La Regalade on Marine and 22nd. For my wife and I, that was our restaurant for many years, and we went there regularly for 🍷🍻🥘 filled with conversation, laughter and friendship and washed it all down with some good wine and outstanding food.
And I always thought I appreciated these places, and I’m sure I did… but I don’t think that I really understood what these places meant to me until Covid hit. 😷
Ah covid… paranoia and lockdowns and washing your groceries… Anyone remember getting a tickle in your throat when you were standing in a socially distanced lineup at the supermarket? You’d try sooooo hard not to cough. And if you did have to cough in public? You either abandoned your grocery cart as you bolted for the door, or you improvised some way to try to cover it up. The ability to flatulate on demand comes in handy in moments like that. 🤭
And please don’t get me started on ‘virtual learning’ – I’m a teacher and I still wake up in a cold sweat from having nightmares about that well intentioned fiasco.
But there is one thing that Covid did for me that I am actually grateful for – covid clarified just how important other people are to me and the value of being able to connect with friends and family… and not on a zoom call.
The joy of being able to physically meet up and spend actual time in the presence of one another. It puts a smile on my face and replenishes my soul. ❤️ I don’t think that the seawall was ever busier than it was during covid. 👩🦽🚶♀️🚶♂️🏃👩🦽🚶♀️🚶♂️🏃👩🦽🚶♀️🚶♂️🏃
Since then, I’ve made it a point to get out more… a lot more… and to call up friends and say ‘Let’s go for a walk and meet for coffee’ – ‘Let’s hang out.’
But lately I’ve been noticing that a number of great hangout places are still closing down. I think those covid related government loans are coming due and many small businesses are struggling to repay them.
I really enjoyed Feast restaurant in Dundarave, and I was so disappointed to learn that they had closed. And my wife and I were walking around lower Lonsdale last week with the intention of stopping in at Lift Bakery for some breakfast... but there was a note on the door. Business closed due to overdue rent…
I was feeling kind of bummed, but then I noticed something as we were walking back to the 🚙. There was a new little art gallery Ashdale Gallery … just off 3rd and Lonsdale! ❤️
Owning a restaurant during covid was tough… but owning a gallery??? You might as well have taken your life savings, put it in a pile in the middle of your front yard… and then lit it on🔥. So very few of the galleries on the North Shore survived through covid.
And going inside the gallery? Having the chance to see live art again? I realize for some people that might not be their thing, but for me… being able to spend time in a hip little gallery and just enjoy experiencing art… for about 2 seconds I actually got ever so slightly choked up.
But I needed that. It was wonderful. ❤️
And all this got me thinking: as much as we all need these spaces to connect with others. These spaces need us as well. They need you. They need me.
So maybe your thing is meeting friends at the Squarerigger or the Legion for some 🍺🍺🍺… Maybe it’s hanging out with some friends and a ‘why bother’ (that’s a skim milk decaf latte) on the back porch of Bean Around the 🌎… Maybe it's checking out a local art gallery...
Whatever you do and wherever you do it, I hope we all can do a little more of it. It’s good to connect with the people we care about – and it's good to support the places that allow us to experience that connection. ❤️❤️❤️