Sunrise over Fraser Lake

At the foot of Red Rock Mountain, Fraser Lake

March 2024

Pale skies are bluer now
Shades of spring settling in
But where is the green

Where are the flowers
No paintbrushes or columbines
Springtime is passing

Winds of March blow cold
Weatherman’s predicting snow
Bring on April

 

 

 

 

 

An eagle swoops down
Lands on sundrenched snowbank
Croaks, “Nevermore!”

Beyond the crusted snow,
Dead grass and stained walls,
Two yellow dandelions.

Poplars stretching tall
They’re getting the kinks out
Just like me

Springtime on the lake
Water between the cracks
Birds perch on ice cubes

 

 

 

 

 

Dawn of a new day
Grey sky, pink on horizon
Love in the air

Fluffy white clouds, sun
Shining through, no wonder they
Thought Heaven’s up there

The sun shone today
And there’s brown spots where
There’d been snow and ice

Love is everywhere
Just need to distribute it
Like seeds in a garden

 

 

 

 

Old log house in the bush
Lilac doesn’t bloom anymore
Like when I was a child

Listening to the sound
Of silence, enjoying
Its modulating tones

Soak up the moment
Life is anticipation
And recollections

 

 

 

 

 

Deer on the roadside
White patches on its fur
No need for winter clothes.

The clouds congregate
Shades of grey turbulence
It’s winter again.

Waiting for the green
Wanting to plant flowers
But it’s snowing

 

 

 

 

 

Fraser Lake North Shore

 

Lush green leaves and grass.
Brown patches ready for planting
The warm earth beckons.

What’s going on
Underground, beneath the trees
Roots like telephone wire.

The trees are hesitant
As they poke into the grey sky
Will it rain or stay dry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the sun shines bright
All the world pays attention
New grass, weeds growing.

I love dandelions
She said in early spring
Then she mowed them down.

Puffy little peach
Coloured clouds in a blue sky
‘Twill be a good day

 

 

Silver Birch Lodge Fraser Lake

 

A doe and two fawns
At dusk, on the hillside
Her family is safe here

Deer munch grass on lawn
They don’t mind that we live here
They live here too.

Sun peaks through in East
Bare boned poplars feel warmth
Leaves will soon waken

 

 

 

 

 

Silver Birch Lodge

Ms Fox meets Brer Bear
Her babies in the bush
It’s their territory

Poplar tree stretches high
New leaves flutter in the sky
Mother Tree’s happy

A deer in the night
Silhouetted in light
Others strolling the dark.

 

 

 

Photo by Jennel Terheri, Stella Road west, Fraser L

Colours in night skies
What may they signify?
We are one on Earth.

May dark clouds gather
And rain upon our parade
The dry earth needs water.

Fireworks in the sky
Electricity gone wild
Nature’s clean-up crew

 

 

 

White Swan Park Fraser Lake

Sea gulls on the lawn
Pretty birds strutting about
In their formal dress

Radishes are up
First to permeate the soil
Now I see lettuce

I watched the green grass
Grow before it was mowed
Down to the marrow

 

 

 

Amongst the wild greenery
Columbines with reclusive blooms
Like refugees

Wild roses are not
Big and blousy as tame ones
But their scent is heavenly

A road less travelled
Rolling hills, lush valleys
Its beauty seldom seen

 

 

 

 

 

I went down to the lake
To view trees in the distance
And waves by the shore

I dreamt of skimming
Across the luminous lake
In a rubber boat

Some ducks on the lake
Are having a conference
A lot of quacking up

 

 

 

Hallett Lake

I go to the bush
To sweeten my soul, he said
And to shoot a moose

Outside there’s a stillness
Wet green leaves and grasses
Silvery glow in the treetops

Angry wind struggles
Grove of aspens in the way
They just swing and sway

 

 

 

 

Fraser Lake

Smoke stained the hillside
A dull hazy blue
Red sun in grey sky

Red sun like a cherry
In a mouldering grey sky
Smoke from faraway fire

The way the wind blows
Directs the course of the flames
Wind can be volatile

 

 

 

The berries are ripe
Concealed in the wilderness
 Huckleberry pie!

Do you have a dream,
He asked. No, I replied.
Each new day’s a dream

I’d like to sleep outside
On moonlit nights listening
To the call of loons

An enraged hornet
Homeless after hailstorm
Stung me on the throat

 

 

Fraser Lake

 

Miss the smell of the
Salt spray, love the subtle scents
Along the lakeshore

Strolling the lakeshore
On Saturday afternoons
Rebirthing my spirits

A dragonfly zoomed
Like a Cessna A-37
From the tall marsh grass

 

 

 

 

 

Sunlight creeps in from
Afar, ripples on the water
Begin to sparkle

I watched the sun rise
Then I watched the sun set
‘Blessed is the spot’

Fireweed and mountain aster
Pink and purple ‘mongst the green
It’s August already!

The wind gusted against
Our holiday trailer – thought
We might end up in Oz

 

 

 

Brown bear feasting on
Ants doesn’t care that he’s
Categorized as “black”

Water from on high
Will quench the thirsty soil
Douse the forest fire.

All the wildflowers
Have dried and blown away
Summer’s set on “Air Fry

A breeze wafted through
My bedroom window last night
It was euphoric

 

 

 

 

Stellako River

How high is the water?
Two feet lower than last year
The wells are shrinking

The rains came as they should
Tinkling on the rooftops and
Sprinkling in the wood

Rose hips and snowberries
It’s autumn, even the fireweed
Has dulled down to embers

Sunlight in the treetops
Golden blaze ‘cross darkened sky
Glimpse of what’s to come

 

 

 

Fraser Lake

Touches of gold in the
Foliage, golden glow in the trees
Gold is everywhere

Watching the ducks convene
So many ducks on the water
A political rally?

Geese flying in a perfect “V”
One’s flapping in the middle
A nonconformist

 

 

 

Nithi River Bridge

 

Smooth grey roadway
Kaleidoscope of colours
Good to be alive.

Frost on the pumpkin
First hard frost since May
Four frost-free months

Wind blew cold today
Gathered up summer’s fun
And stored it away

Swirly, puffy clouds
White, grey, silver, in blue sky
Like abstract art

 

 

                                                                                                                          Photo by George Woolsey

A salmon swimming
Upstream – down came an eagle
And ‘zap’ went his dreams

There’s a bear in the bush
Should I run or play dead?
It’s just a “stump” bear

Today’s a good day
Today is the best day
Since yesterday

 

 

 

White moose in front
Of my car. Oh my, ugliest
Horse I ever saw!

More gold than green now
Wet with a three-day rain
Next year’s fire protection

In the Autumn of my life
I absorb the glorious colours
Not the muddy underbrush

All the flowers died in
Their earthy pots under
The Northern Lights sky

 

 

 

 

A teeter bum bird
Stood on a rock singing songs
Oops…he’s teetering

Sun peeps through clouds
Illuminating nearer ones
Something like love

Chilly in the morning
Dark too soon at night, time
To wear long underwear

 

.

 

Silver Birch Lodge

Pieces of gold on the lawn
Does the mama tree miss
Her leaves when they fall

Today it was very hot
So hot I almost forgot
‘Bout wind, rain and snow

Quack grass in the garden
Its impenetrable roots
Could take over the world

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silver Birch tree’s aghast
She’s not suitably undressed
For the weather

Crinkly brown leaves
What’s left of autumn’s beauty
Await the snowfall

Birch trees flap their limbs
In the wind, crinkly leaves fall
It’s the senior season

The silver birch rests
Last years dead leaves
Polka-dot the snow

 

 

Francois Lake

The sun comes up
And the sun goes down. Not
Much time in between.,

“Coast weather” they call it
Rain in December. Coast,
Take back your weather!

Dark grey branches fringed
With thick white hoar frost
A blend of dark and light

 

 

 

 

Atmospheric rivers
Bomb cyclones, new weather patterns
All we have is snow

Slip-sliding on highway
Swirling snow spoils the view
Staying home ’til spring!

Light fades in pale sky
Darkness descends at four p.m
Man invents light bulb

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stuart Lake

Driving snowy streets
Best to stay in low gear
Second is too fast

Snow swirling sideways
Icy wind screams: We’re here
Get used to it!

Something refreshing
’bout new snow, like clean sheets
On the clothesline

Snow insulates the senses
All is quiet and still
Except the snow blower

 

 

October two-thousand- six
Three feet of wet snow that
Stuck to the shovel

Dark days of winter
Dark days invite art, music
And spiritual awakening

Silver Birch tree wears
Lacy lingerie. Winter’s
Frosted tapestry

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fraser Lake

I dreamed of skating
On a shining mass of lake ice
For miles and miles

Sunlight gleams on sharp
Edge of snowbank, cold cuts
Through jeans and long-johns

Pink sky at dawn
Brings on bad weather
Enjoy the dawn

 

 

 

 

 

Deer tracks in the snow
On the pathway where I walk
Try not to step on them

When fog shrouds your way
And you can’t see through the gloom
There’s sunshine by noon

Not enough ice on the lake
Too much ice on the road
It’s not REAL winter

 

Magical Moon
Shining on the snow
Illuminating the night

Sweatpants, sweatshirts
Sweat socks, not much sweating
When it’s this cold

Brown ice everywhere
Sand reduces slippage
Walk with ski poles

I love the Silver Birch
Its leaves cling to the mother
Until December

 

 

 

 

 

Trees draped in white fluffy
Down – snow-laden landscape
Bright blue winter sky

Morning snow on the road
Should be gone by noon. Oh no!
It’s snowing again

In the dark of night
A tiny creature leaves scratch
Marks in the snow

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the dark of night
Deer punch holes
In the snow

Sign says “Deer Crossing”
But jaywalking is what
Animals do best

The palette is grey
Blue grey and silver
With a touch of gold

The silver birch droops
Her lacy white foliage
Is melting away

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                          Squirrel proof feeder

Warmer this morning
There’s a bite in the air
But the wind is still

Sunshine on snowbank
Wispy cloud in pale blue sky
Mother Nature rests

Something comforting
About fresh snow on trees
Dressing up bare branches

Opening the curtain
Bare naked poplars shiver
In knee-high snow

 

 

 

Cat looks out the window
Snowflakes coming down
Be fun to catch them!

The sun, oh the sun
A pink glow on the hillside
Gonna be a lovely day

Ethereal tree shapes
Fog obscuring landscape
Perhaps I’m still asleep

Listen to the wind
Mother Nature’s violin
Thank you, Ian Tyson

 

 

 

 

 

So few foxes, saw one
and wondered, was he new
Or a survivor?

Tall spindly poplars
Point twig fingers at the sun
Dark spruce is not impressed

Wind blows from the East
A sharp edge that cuts the cloth
Feels like “snow cold”

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a pause
In mid-February, but
The moon’s still hungry

Stark images of
Bare naked poplars amongst
Well dressed spruce

I offer gratitude
To the moose for his
Gifts of sustenance

February sunshine
Warms the thirty below
To fifteen by noon

 

 

 

 

 

Snow sifting down
Like icing sugar on
Stale lumpy cake

Tiny birds no bigger
Than leaves flitting about
In silver birch tree

The winds came blowing
Silver birch seeds on the snow
Table is set for the birds