Give peace a chance

These days it's impossible to not be concerned about the state of the world with its many horrific wars just about everywhere. And it doesn't help to learn about new alliances such as those among the powers of China, Russia, and North Korea. 

I was probably already a bit on the edge of feeling down, remembering that today is the 24th anniversary of the Twin Towers horror. I still remember being home that day, when some kind of spidey sense made me turn on the news--just in time to see the second building be hit. 

I took a bit of comfort when I found a clue in this morning's crossword that led me to figuring out "the fruit  that symbolizes peace in China" which turns out to be the apple.  

It makes me think the idea of the apple being the 'forbidden fruit' in Eden as one I can just about believe, as it sure seems our species has pretty much always been engaged in wars. What a species. So much for having such big brains -- hard to understand how such idiocy could continue. 

Live long and prosper

Anyone who's watched Star Trek is bound to recognize the Vulcan salutation made famous by Spock, the half-human science officer on the early days of Star Trek. 

Today is apparently Star Trek Day, although it must be noted that though September 8th is the anniversary of the show's first airing in the US, here in Canada it premiered on September 6th. Maybe this was a sneak preview for benefit of William Shatner's fellow Canadians. 

Fifty-nine years (since 1966), not a bad run for a show that began with lines about the starship Enterprise and "...its five-year mission".

As for the photo, it's a T-shirt from Vulcan, Alberta, a town that celebrates all things Star Trekkian, supposedly a shirt from Starfleet Academy, where crew members took their training. As for me, I wore the shirt (even though it's well worn, over all those years of 'training' as I watched reruns of the series) to a reading I was part of this summer, a reading where I read poems I wrote about Captain Kathryn Janeway, who appeared in Voyager, a later incarnation of this beloved series. 

Overchill

These days, we're often told to 'chill' -- not to fret over things, especially when it's something we can't do much about. 

Sometimes though I think we're told to 'chill' a little too often, as the world seems crazy enough to maybe need to be a little worried about now and then. 

Last week, I at least did something more constructive than simply 'chilling' as I was involved in two political meetings. One was a forum where potential leaders of BC's Green Party were making presentations and answering questions--an interesting exercise that helped me decide who I'd prefer. 

The other was a meeting with Ernie Klassen, our newly-elected Member of Parliament. What a refreshing difference he's already making in our riding. For one thing, his office is actually OPEN Monday through Friday. The other, he's willing to meet with constituents no matter what their party affiliation might be. Such a wonderful difference from the last two MPs who've supposedly 'represented' us. 

As for me on this Labour Day, my 'labour' focussed on overdue cleaning projects, as clearly this old fridge was needing. 

Presto!

Maybe it's not quite magic, though some days the way garden keeps feeding us, it feels that way. 

Today was a day for making containers of pesto for the freezer. There are plenty of different ways to use it (ours goes mostly to pasta dishes), and probably just as many ways of making it. 

All I do for the freezer packs is whir garlic (again, from the garden), basil, lemon juice, and olive oil in the little food processor. Later, when I'm ready to use it, I'll add cheese and nuts. Most recipes call for pine nuts, but those are soooo expensive, I generally use walnuts. 

It may seem silly to some, but one of the reasons I decided to make this today -- besides the fact that the basil is growing like crazy out back -- is that I heard a friend read such a beautiful poem that she'd written. "Sweet Basil" it was called, and it's stayed in my mind all day. 

I suspect I'll likely think of it again sometime this winter when I'm once again using this magically delicious concoction, pesto. 

Tiny but mighty

Berries are one of the treats I love most about summer. Yes, the blackberries are the ones I pick every year. I'm also a slave to pruning them, where they grow along the fence out back of our house. During summer, I trim them every week to keep them happy. 

Those little raspberries though are a new discovery. 

There's a vacant lot (for sale, of course) across the street and along with the free bouquets I've been picking there since spring, I recently discovered a wild raspberry bush. 

The fruits are small, and there aren't ever very many, but WOW are they ever sweet and delicious. 

You can bet I'm hoping that next summer the lot will remain vacant, and will again serve as my go-to flower shop as well as the spot for picking tiny red berries. Yum. 

Fruits of the Earth

Although I guess, to be more accurate, I'd have to call them vegetables. Still, Vegetables of the Earth just doesn't have the same ring as a title. 

Home-grown potatoes always seem like such a miracle to me. After all, they started as small chunks of potatoes that had started growing 'eyes' and all we had to do was bury them in some good dirt. Then, it seems like not all that much time later, here they were: tiny potatoes, ready for becoming part of a summertime meal. 

Maybe my affinity for good potatoes goes back to my own Irish roots, even though my people there somehow managed to make it through the Great Potato Famine. My grampa didn't come to North American until the early 1900s, and I'm still hoping to see where he lived one of these days, as Ireland is included on the travel bucket list. 

In the meantime, fresh potatoes are definitely on the menu!

Enduring

If she were alive, she'd be turning 128. A birthday no one (at least not yet) seems interested in observing. And yes, once again, I'm thinking of Amelia Earhart, born on this date in 1897. 

Despite so much time passing since her disappearance (back in 1937 when she would have been turning 40), her persona and the mysteries surrounding her life endure. 

Earlier this summer, The New Yorker (June 9, 2025 issue) published an article called "Turbulence". It's full of some fairly damning thoughts about Earhart's husband, George Putnam. It suggests that he pushed to do things she shouldn't have tried, specifically the ill-fated flight around the world. 

Earhart is still enduring in my own thoughts, partly because the mysterious theft of her statue still has no resolution (though it's assumed that it was stolen by metal thieves who found an unscrupulous dealer who melted it down), and partly because I always think of her on this, her birthday. 

The plane above is the 'twin' to the one she flew nearly all the way around the world. Called 'Muriel' (named after Amelia's sister) is now ensconced in the museum at the town's airfield. It's the only original 1935 Lockheed Electra still in existence. A special aircraft, to be sure. 

The Amelia Earhart Festival in Atchison, Kansas, has always been a memorable weekend of celebrations. My favourite part (besides meeting up with friends) has been the amazing fireworks. 

Celebrate!