Let’s meet at …
Too often we hear the phrase: in the wrong place at the wrong time. But all of us have experienced the wonder of coincidence and the delight of seeing something or someone special because we were in the right place at the right time.
One such moment occurred while travelling in the Maritimes with B.C. friends. We were on the ferry from Nova Scotia to Prince Edward Island when an observant man recognized me from behind. The subsequent reunion with my cousin and her husband from Brisbane, Australia had us laughing all the rest of the way across Northumberland Strait! Although we hoped we might meet up once more on the island our paths did not cross again while there.
We still chuckle about this incredible coincidence when we meet for family gatherings each time I return to Brisbane.
Watch the road!
Driving down the hill from the airport turn-off towards Williams Lake, I always check out the pond in the bend of the highway. Often ducks float and paddle around effortlessly, undisturbed by the traffic whizzing past so close.
This time, a poplar branch was swimming across it! It appeared to be self-propelled, but common sense suggested a beaver might have been part of the underwater scene. Stopping to check my theory was not an option.
Patterns
I was part of a fall sleepover for Brownies. Their favourite activity at Brown Owl’s home was ‘free time’ when they would dash out the door to play energetically on the sturdy, ingenious, play equipment at the side of her house. Frost that greeted us in the early morning soon disappeared as the sun rose – except in the pattern of that climbing frame. Its shadow was a perfect replica – frosty white surrounded by green lawn.
Across Murtle River from the viewpoint at Dawson Falls, a tree leaning out over the riverbank appeared to have no roots. In place of said roots were icicles – a whole “waterfall” of them!
Maybe the neighbour’s?
This story, though several years old, is timeless as well as priceless. Friends in Salmo had a young visitor, friend of one of their sons, with them at their riverside place near Erie Lake (near Salmo).
Conversation was general, spirits high on that wintry day. Suddenly the young man asked calmly: “Whose moose is that??” Not 40 m from them, on the other side of the fence, a moose stood looking at them. Their laughter did not faze the moose one bit, for it wandered only as far as the creek to munch at the bushes growing beside it.
Little old ladies indeed!
Fifties Night was being celebrated on our Alaskan cruise and drawing to a close as we stopped to watch and listen. The sound of Bill Haley and the Comets replaced live music.
Several people got up and were leaving as the change occurred, including two elderly ladies, one using a cane. Avoiding the stairs, they came down the curving ramp so necessary for the disabled.
Suddenly, the gal with the cane sent it skidding across the floor out of the way, spun round, and grabbed her friend’s hand. The two of them jived as energetically and deftly as if they were still teenagers, keeping time with the music, while everyone else stopped moving to watch. When the song ended, the lady picked up her cane and the two of them hobbled away – our applause ringing in their ears.
