There is perhaps no smaller community than that of a ferry-dependent island, and most small communities have some type of grapevine. On Denman Island, we have a community newspaper that’s actually called, the Island Grapevine. So if something’s happening, chances are, you heard it through the grapevine. But which one? because here on Denman Island, the newspaper’s not our only grapevine.
My first experience with Denman’s informal grapevine happened long ago before I became a permanent resident. I was in a neighbour’s kitchen enjoying a cup of coffee when the wail of the ambulance’s siren passed by, headed south. The concern on my neighbour’s face was evident as she rushed to the phone and called another neighbour who lived in that direction to track the ambulance’s path. Through a series of phone calls, they quickly found at which residence the ambulance had stopped.
At the time, I thought it quirky, but now that I live here, I realize it was much more than that. It set the community’s wheels in motion. The local Island Grapevine newspaper regularly publishes thank you’s from grateful recipients of this community’s generosity, whether it be emergency pet-sitting, child-minding, meals, chauffeur services or hand-holding.
The same type of telephone grapevine is in full swing whenever a pod of dolphins, or orcas (see photo), or a family of otters swims by. One neighbour will phone the next all around the island following the action. When the herring spawn in the spring, the same grapevine springs into action. And for anyone who has access to Facebook, you can usually follow the local action on one of the Denman Island Facebook pages with photos and videos thrown into the mix.
Quirky? Probably, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. Does your community have a grapevine?
Toadstools
Treat
Trick
Back home, fall weather has set in. The crab apple tree and russet leaves are providing the exercise, and blazing fires in the evenings are providing the warmth.
First stop: Toronto
I love the old stone buildings and the towering spires of the Cathedral Church of St. James is a beautiful example.
Red brick is a Toronto staple and found everywhere. I snapped a pic of the Flatiron building with the Trompe l’ceil wall on the rear.
City Hall made me pause. I remembered finishing a ten-kilometre Miles-for-Millions walkathon there when I was a pre-teen (though I can’t remember where the trek began or what we were raising money for).
I stopped to watch dogs and their owners enjoy a whimsical spouting fountain in Berczy Park that made me wish I still had my dogs.
The St. Lawrence Market hasn’t changed, though the pork chops weren’t piled sky high in the butchers’ cases like they used to be.
Last week, I had the opportunity to visit Kyuquot, a small community on the northwest coast of Vancouver Island. Technically it was a fishing trip, but I was netting word count, because when the anglers are away, the writer will play.
A more spectacular perch from which to write would be hard to find. Inspirational vistas, no cell phone service, and only a whisper of Internet added up to hours of uninterrupted writing bliss.
Each day when the crew returned with their catch, they’d clean the fish on the dock. They’d take the heads and innards to a nearby rock to feed the local wildlife. The gorging that ensued was a photographer’s dream even for those of us without long lenses.
Sadly, we couldn’t stay forever, but we left Kyuquot topped up with good food, fond memories and loaded fishing coolers.