Displacement activity

It's all very well being back in the bosom of the family, and having lovely meals with lots of people round the table, and having the whole day without the pressure of job or other commitments -- but oh I do miss the sewing machine! Meanwhile, some knitting keeps the hands busy.

And I miss the English countryside, its layers of history.

Here in the brash new west coast, layers of history are emerging, even over my own lifetime.

This view would have been all "bush" fifty years ago, when my parents came and put up their first house here (after a devastating house fire, they rebuilt on the same spot). Now it's high-bush blueberries as far as the eye can see - or until you hit the railway and the container yards that have spread along it. The village with its general store, gas station, etc - basic services - has become a built-up suburb with several malls, some "historic properties", and even a Pitt Meadows Museum. The highway and bridges have been widened and still can't cope with the ever-increasing traffic. At weekends the skies hum with pesky planes from Canada's busiest small airport. When we arrived this road had a few rundown old houses; now these have been renovated or replaced. Fortunately this area of green belt remains; since the neighbour cut down his trees, you can see the mountains again. When it isn't raining, that is. Yet even in the rain, they were picking blueberries.