Friday, May 01, 2026

Camellia japonica 'Silver Wings' - 1 May 2026

 

One of the advantages of living in this century is our ability to instantly find the etymology of words. Some might say that knowing facts is not having knowledge. I would differ by saying that the association of a fact with personal experience becomes some sort of knowledge.

My mother and grandmother were born in the Philippines. Today I scanned this recently purchased Camellia japonica ‘Silver Wings’ for big coin. The flowers are 5 inches wide. I decided to look up the origin of the word camellia.

The word camellia originates from the Latinized surname of Georg Joseph Kamel (latinized as Camellus), a 17th-century Moravian Jesuit botanist and missionary. Botanist Carl Linnaeus named the genus in 1753 to honor Kamel’s work documenting plants in the Philippines, though the plant is native to East Asia. Wikipedia

So now I have this interesting association between the camellias that my Rosemary loved and my Filipino mother and grandmother whom Rosemary met in the late 60s and early 70s.

A fact that I happen to know about Linnaeus is that he named the sexual parts of clams for those of human women. I won’t explain further.

A further etymology of the Spanish word camellón  which is the centre part that divides a two-way highway is that it indeed comes from the camel. Since the highway ridge is higher it mimics the camel's hump. Spanish for camel is camello.

 

Wednesday, April 29, 2026

Rosemary & Niño - 22 March 2020

 

One of the strangest New Years Rosemary and I ever had was around 1987 at Gary Taylor's Rock Room on Hornby Street.The entertainer that evening was Roy Forbes (then known simply as Bim). I was astonished that at midnight he took out a paper from his shirt pocket which had the lyrics of Auld Lang Syne which he obviously did not know. After finishing he sprayed Rosemary and I (we were, unluckily, in the front) with an entire bottle of Möet & Chandon. But the strangest part of the evening were three very young Polish sailors who kept smiling at me. I told Rosemary that I felt uncomfortable and that we should go home. As we were leaving the sailors caught us on our way out and told us in a terrible broken English that I was the spitting image of Roman Polanski. They asked for my address. For years we received Christmas cards from them.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

and never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

and auld lang syne? – Robert Burns

These lyrics have been in my mind as they contain that troublesome word acquaintance.

In Spanish the word is conocido (a person known). For me I have friends and then people I know who I call acquaintances.

In this 21^st century and in this year I can write here that most of the people I ever knew are dead or have disappeared. In my mind most of the time now is what Harold Bloom wrote in his book How to Read and Why (2000):

"We read not only because we cannot know enough people, but because friendship is so vulnerable, so likely to diminish or disappear, overcome by space,time, imperfect sympathies, and all the sorrows of familial and passional life."

Since my Rosemary died on December 9, 2020 I have not found anybody I can confide my inquietudes (a fine Spanish word for existential concerns). I would tell her that many of the people I call on the phone have a synthetic woman asking, “What is your name and the purpose of your call”. I answer, “I am Alex and I am his friend.” I am then told to hold while she(it) will see if the person is available. She(it) will invariably return  to tell me that the person is not available.

To add further to what happened after my Rosemary died I can say that to my granddaughters I am not a grandfather but a useless old man.

 

 

My family, a family that showers me with warmth and cuddling attention are my cats Niño and Niña. Both are 15 years old and I suspect that Niño may die in the next two months.

Because of my advanced age I am not interested in meeting up with a woman. The only one I want is dead.

Is it too late for me to make new friends? In the atmosphere of the times I believe that is not possible. I will have to persist with my past memories of the friends and family I had.

Tuesday, April 28, 2026

 Top: Mocambo Veracruz -20 December 1967 Bottom - Vancouver 31 July 2020

Monday, April 27, 2026

Echinacea purpurea 'Green Jewel' - 16 July 2021

 Green Echinaceas

Today I spent big coin buying plants at Phoenix Perennials in Richmond. This nursery had the biggest variety of unusual plants. I go once a year. What is my goal?

My Kitsilano garden is one that I shared with my Rosemary. Every year some of her favourite plants may disappear. Thus my objective is to find what I call her plants. I found most of them except Echinacea purpurea ‘Green Jewel’. Only a snob like my Rosemary would like a green flower.

26 April 2026

 

I was going to plant them on Monday but I put on my garden jeans and managed to put them all in the ground and then spread sea soil and steer manure. I then watered and placed all the plastic pots in the blue bins for tomorrow’s pick up. 

26 April 2026

 

A while ago I decided to test my Galaxy phone in low light and took some photographs of my effort. I am happy.

 

26 April 2026

 

Sunday, April 26, 2026

 

The word in Spanish to retire (jubilar) has its root from the Latin  jubilare which means to shout for joy in relation for the ceasing of work responsibilities.

I remember going to retirement ceremonies when I worked for Canadian Pacific Limited. Old men were given rocking chairs, watches and told to read their wives’ job jars in the kitchen. I told Rosemary that these assignments depressed me. She would say, “Alex, you have to go. We need the money.”

Since late in my life I now think I may be an artist I keep taking photographs, scanning my plants and try to find people who have yet to let go. My friend Ian McGuffie calls the Gulf Islands where many of my photography peers move, “God’s Waiting Room.”

I am happy to report that Canada’s first Poet Laureate George Bowering (90) published a book of poetry at the end of May and will publish a memoir in a month,

George Bowering 

And there is someone who lives in Salt Spring on the Gulf Islands who has not given up to rest on her bookish laurels. This is Celia Duthie who has had a show at 884 East Georgia since this last Thursday and will close today Sunday her exhibition of lovely wood blocks and linocuts.

I went twice and I particularly gorged on her son’s bread. He has a stupendous bakery in Salt Spring.

Duthie’s art is influenced by her mentor/teacher Richard Tetrault. Because the gallery is in Tetrault’s home you can also enjoy his art which is stellar and which he makes every day.

The show closes today at 5.