Last week we hosted what is now our annual Summer Solstice celebration in the garden for our friends and neighbours, a day that ostensibly marks the first day of summer, but here, this year on the left coast, full blown summer has been with us for the past 2 months. Traveling in these summer months is not possible, as caretakers of this jungle we have created. Mindful of water consumption we are careful to handwater, or shrubblify only those plants that need it – new additions still establishing themselves or the potted plants, which is still not insignificant – ~40 fuchsias, 4 brugmansias, 4 strawberries, 3 cherry tomatoes, a few agapanthus, cannas, giant red banana, 5 Japanese maples, GreenHouse hibiscus, window box annuals, a few potted bamboos and other assorted things I may be forgetting to mention.
Prisoners. Of Paradise.
Except when a Pink Martini is involved.
A couple of weeks ago, we were idly considering options for a fall road trip. What about a return to Portland? I went on line to check the touring schedule of one of my all time favorite bands – Portland-based, hipster big band Pink Martini – to see when they were playing Washington or Oregon states this fall and found that the very next date they were playing was – wait for it – Victoria! 5 days hence! And 2 hours away! Before you could finish humming the opening bars of Amado Mio, I had nosebleed tickets in hand, a one-night’s reservation at a garden suite at the brewpub on the outer harbour and away we went on a daring raid on one of my all-time favorite cities.
Victoria on this warm summer’s night was a surprise. It’s been awhile since I was there in the summer. Even when I lived there for two summers some years back when I was going to Royal Roads University, I rarely went downtown on weekend evenings, preferring to stay closer to my waterfront home away from home further up the Saanich peninsula. There were 2 cruise ships at dock this night and the streets around the inner harbour, framed by the spectacular sight of the lit up provincial parliament building were filled with tourists, hanging out on outdoor patios and shopping the night market.
The concert was amazing, as expected, from the opening dirge-like sounds and clashing cymbals of Ravel’s Bolero, which I always think of as the theme song to one of my favorite movies, Claude Lelouche’s Les Uns et les Autres, known in North America as Bolero, an unfortunate choice given it was around the same time as that far more well known film of the same name with the luscious Bo Derrick (and Dudley Moore, for that matter). Next, lead singer China Forbes appeared on stage and kicked things off belting out those amazing first bars of Amado Mio which seems to have become something of a permanent ear worm for me, to say nothing of the fact that I have a tendency to burst into song with it whenever the mood strikes.
The next day I took time only to comb through the used bookstore and the art supply store (my toy store), before heading back up island, to face a couple of wilting fuchsias and a Dennis who was delighted, to say the least, to be allowed back outside. The quiet was noticeable. The only sounds we could hear from our garden were the sounds of birds and bees, a far cry from the constant noise a city makes.
A daring raid – and a happy one.