Issue the First

The Rocky Mountains and their smaller cousins proved no meaningful obstacles to the U-Haul and the Big E. A night in Kamloops, a ferry to Nanaimo, 2 lovely days with Tink and Lily and before we knew it Shag and Moxie were scarfing down treats from the Campbell River ferry lady and we were in the gravel driveway at 295 Seavista, Cortes Island.
Jean, Jamie and Ira were there to greet us and lessen the burden of deconstructing the the loads. They also brought island veggies and a blueberry crisp. Despite the hazards of walking a ton of stuff into the house, the only thing broken all day was the ice.We're really here.
Jamie and Ira come from families among the first Anglos to settle here. Ira self-identified as "talkative" in school, is a fisherman when he's allowed. He suggested the preparation technique we used on our salmon that evening. He knows a lot about a lot and seems curious, looking to expand his inventory. Jamie is more subdued but her eyes absorbed everything. She seems to be a connection to the more ethereal and esoteric.She's strong as hell, too.
Jean, originally from Moose Jaw SK (Moose Jawer? Moose Jawite?), is a teacher who can't teach. She cut her teeth in a private school before working under "a principal's letter" at Cortes Island School. Now she has to get certified in the more traditional, archaic sense. It seems self-evident that a profession that invests its energy in finding alternate creative ways to help kids educate themselves and assess what they know should be able, even encouraged, to fold that into their own credentialing, too. Jean teaches French and has a background that includes Spanish. She and Mikie threw some around the yard, bemoaning the rust.
Lili, not to be confused with St. Lily of Nanaimo, promised everyone a fiesta over red corn tortilla chips and ginger ale.
The house is three separate houses. Family room and storage in the basement sits beside the cold room. The loft adjoins the master bedroom, an odd term that. The center floor comprises the kitchen, living room/dining room and another (slave?) bedroom. It's focus is the wood-burning stove. The water-facing wall is mostly glass. Through that glass one's eyes fall first on the stand of bamboo (yup, bam freakin' boo), then the fruit trees and chef's garden, the evergreens to the ferry landing. Gorgeous except for the telephone poles messing with the image composition. Mikie is so offended by their presence he won't photograph it, unless readers ask him. (Ask him.)