Goldenrod undeterred by wintry weather in White Rock

The quantity of new growth on this clump of goldenrod growing on White Rock beach belies the lateness of the season.

It's full of fresh leaf buds and opening flowers.

Apparently, the plant thinks it's spring.

Truck camouflage

The neighbour's red pickup truck is hidden behind a tree of exactly the right shape and colour to camouflage it. At first glance, that is. When you look more closely, the wheels are a dead giveaway.

Another way of looking at this picture is as if it were a 1967 Corvette Stingray, travelling in the opposite direction to how the truck is parked.

Why is it blurry? Why, the blinding speed, of course.

Chinese Lantern Plant blooms on

It started its life with me as a small pot plant.

Two autumns ago, I bought it to display the bright foliage in front of the house in the fall.

Transplanted last year, it has now grown large and spreading. In some places, these plants are considered nuisance weeds, because they grow so fast and easily.

Since late summer, this one has been showing off its orange lanterns against the bricks of the barbecue.

Mystery religion of marketing taken to the limit and beyond

Blueberry jam. You'd be forgiven for thinking it was a local product, from Abbotsford to be precise, as the wording on the jar suggests. Just an hour down the road from here, that town is full of berry farms.

But even though the blueberries are grown in Abbotsford, this jam is not produced locally. In fact, it was packed in The United Arab Emirates.

In time zones, that's 11 hours. Blueberries grown in the Fraser Valley were shipped halfway round the world, made into jam, and sent right back to where the berries grew.

This sort of thing is surprisingly common. Marketing, the international sacred mystery religion of our times, tells us it's okay to use our limited fossil fuel and pollute the atmosphere burning it to do this kind of nonsense.

There, I've ranted, and I feel a bit better. But I'm curious. Is it just me, or are others concerned about this sort of thing?

Autumn crocus

This tiny autumn crocus, purchased at the UBC Botanical Gardens was planted in September, and sprang into flower, as autumn crocuses do. In the spring and summer, they produce the greenery that strengthens the bulb; then this dies away to be replaced in autumn by a flower.

These brave flags made a row along the walk until the heavy rain came. Then they laid their heads down on the cement wall and gave themselves up to storm.

Yet a couple of days after the sun returned, another few brave blossoms followed.

I love the varied types of autumn crocus; their bravery and brightness in the face of heavy weather, and their promise of  spring and new life beyond the encroaching winter.

Seasonal shift in the temperate zone

Bear Creek Park is quiet now, with a definite autumnal look that defies the dramatic foliage of a banana tree. Since I took this picture, gardeners have bound its own leaves around the plant to protect it from the coming winter.

Since the umbrella blew off the deck in last week's windstorm, our unusual California-style summer of dry heat has definitely given way to autumn. It's the time of year to exchange clothing between summer and winter closets and put new flannel sheets on the bed.

As the Wallace Stevens poetically inquired,

"Is there no change or death in paradise
Does ripe fruit never fall?"

Oh the joys of seasonal change in the temperate zone.

Landmark Port Mann Bridge removed following replacement

Image: Yasemin Tulpar

Bridge technology changes, and bridges, along with everything else, have grown larger, higher and more elaborate.

The temporary span seen in the left foreground is being used to take down the old orange structure, half of which can still be seen.

The new Port Mann bridge is enormous. It has double the capacity of the old sixties vintage bridge, and at 65 metres, is one of the widest in the world. The bridge deck is high and broad, with ten lanes suspended from soaring cable towers and a thicket of white cables that meet overhead.