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Wildwood notes : nature writing, music, and newspapers Szabo, Lisa Sara 2007

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Wild wood Notes: Nature Writing, Music, and Newspapers by Lisa Sara Szabo B.A., The University of British Columbia, 2004 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS in THE F A C U L T Y OF G R A D U A T E STUDIES (English) THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH C O L U M B I A April 2007 © Lisa Sara Szabo, 2007 Abstract During the first half of the twentieth century, British Columbia was comprised of small clusters of settlements connected by tracts of forests, rivers, coastal waters, rural farmland, rail lines, and few paved roads. While municipal newspapers formed local identities, provincial daily newspapers interconnected British Columbia's disparate towns and villages into wider regional affiliation. By examining the genre of the nature writing, particularly naturalist accounts disseminated through the newsprint, I propose that as the daily newspaper's medium brings the everyday into peoples' homes, the serial nature essay conveys a "unique syntax" of bioregional commonplace into the reader's day-to-day living. Newspapers bring the outside world into the intimate sphere of the home on a regular basis; A serial nature essay, especially one-that focuses on the local, delivered in the medium of newsprint extends this outside world to include events occurring in nature. Further, I express how musical troping, a key characteristic of nature writing, teaches readers how to listen to and to detect the well-being/distress of a bioregional community, and thus cultivate an ethic of care for the natural environment; naturalist writing, thus acts as an antiphony to the deafening cacophony of environmental crisis news. My thesis examines, in particular, B.C. naturalist John William Winson's serial nature columns "Open Air Jottings" and "Along Wildwood Trails," which appeared in the Vancouver Daily Province from 1918 to 1956. John Winson's writings, written under the pseudonym 'Wildwood', invite the communities of British Columbia to envision membership in a wider Pacific Northwest bioregional community—a relationship that sees beyond and dissolves the divisions of political and.geographic borders, species, and human culture. By recuperating and re-reading Wildwood's "forgotten naturalist" column, specifically disseminated through newsprint, I analyze how his writings both promote and complicate the formation of a Pacific Northwest regional identity; specifically, the tensions between the genre's imperialistic frameworks (First Nations representation and literary ecological imperialism), which domesticate new lands for immigrants and the transformative experiences resulting from encounters with new environments and cultures, experiences that require new ways of seeing and interacting. Table of Contents Abstract • Acknowledgement , Dedication CHAPTER I Introduction CHAPTER II Natural I • • • 1: CHAPTER III Song Cycles CHAPTER IV Discordant Harmonies '. CHAPTER V Conclusion: Antiphony, Weather We Be Bibliography Appendix iv Acknowledgements Wildwood trails have revealed many paths to writing home, but none so vital as the interconnections—"friendships," as Wildwood calls them— that build and sustain communities. Since the moment I stumbled upon Wildwood's writings, my family, friends, colleagues, and supervisors have supported (and endured) my—at times obsessive—endeavour with patience, humour, encouragement, and shared insights. My gratitude goes to the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada and the University of BC Faculty of Graduate Studies for funding my project. I am grateful for the assistance of the archivists and librarians at University of BC Special Collections, especially George Brandak, and the Matsqui-Sumas-Abbotsford Archives. Deep thanks to my colleagues, now close friends, who've encouraged, listened to and provided me with feedback; in particular, Travis Mason, Shurli Makmillen, and Christine Stewart for being there from beginning to end. Their thoughts on poetry, nature writing, newspapers, theory, and genre have been invaluable. And, thanks too to Jennifer Schnepf who, by agreeing to be tourist for a day in her hometown Abbotsford, helped me retrace some of Wildwood's local natural history. I wish to extend a special thank you to my committee members, Dr. Susanna Egan and Dr. Coll Thrush for their advice and encouragement: Dr. Thrush for showing me new ways to map home historically and bioregionally and Dr. Egan for asking the "so whats?". Their suggestions and conversations have been and remain valuable gifts. Finally, I wish to express my greatest gratitude to my supervisor Dr. Laurie Ricou, for his confidence in my capabilities as both a writer and a scholar, and for teaching me to read/write texts made of bark, leaf, feather, and fur. If Judy Brown had not convinced me that I could survive one more course on long poems, then I would never have wrote about the silences of radish seeds, gone in search of Norway rats, found the music of Wildwood trails, and journeyed, these past five and half years, with such an inspiring mentor. Thank you. For P. C, Ravens and Red-Tailed Hawks C H A P T E R I Introduction / l . a. The action of introducing; a leading or bringing in; a bringing into use or practice, bringing in in speech or writing, insertion, etc. /b. A preliminary explanation prefixed to or included in a book or other writing; the part of a book which leads up to the subject treated, or explains the author's design or purpose. Also, the corresponding part of a speech, lecture, etc. / Mus. A preparatory passage or movement at the beginning of a piece of music.1 My thesis examines B.C. naturalist John William Winson's nature columns "Open Air Jottings" and "Along Wildwood Trails," which appeared in the Vancouver Daily Province from 1918 to 1956 and were later reprinted from 1964 to 1973 in British Columbia's quarterly Wildlife Review2 under the title "Wildwood Says. " John Winson's writings invite the communities of British Columbia to envision membership in a wider Pacific Northwest bioregional community—in a set of relations that extends beyond and dissolves the divisions inherent in political and geographic borders and the boundaries implied among species and human cultures. Winson's jottings, surrounded as they are in a daily newspaper by announcements of community events, recipes, ads for laxatives, personal ads, and pictures of girdles and butchered meat, originally appeared first in the Women's Pages and then in the Social and Personal Section. Later, editors shifted the column among different sections, including a short period in the section headed "Garden, Farming, and ' "Introduction," Oxford English Dictionary Online. >http://www.oed.com/< 2006. 10 July 2006. 2 Wildlife Review, a BC Game Commission (later the BC Ministry of Environment) quarterly publication first appeared in October 1954 and ceased in 1985. W. T. (Bill) Ward was the editor for the years that Wildwood's jottings appeared. The magazine was primarily an educational guide for hunting, fishing, camping, and about wildlife. Wildwood's writings first appeared in the 10 lh anniversary edition, Volume 3. 4 (Dec. 1964), at a point when the magazine's bulletin format expanded to include colour and more "enhanced" visual graphics. Wildlife Review reprinted 32 Wildwood articles. In March 1970, Wildlife Review published a full-page obituary for John Winson, " A Fine and Gentle Man, Goodbye to Wildwood." i Outdoor News," until eventually settling on the Op/Ed pages. The positioning of Winson's nature essays alongside the quotidian (the excremental and the banal) situates a natural world among the intimacies of day-to-day living. A day-to-day living conveyed by advertisements for laxatives, girdles, and skin ointments juxtaposed with the excretions of flora and fauna, such as oxygen and sap from plants and scat and saliva from animals—a commonplace reinforced by Winson's choice of seemingly banal subject matter of nettles, grasses, and seeds^-seems prescient to a reader in 2007. He exposes his readers to the everyday natural world found growing through the cracks of the doorstep, in the neighbour's yard, or across the Fraser Valley. He defamiliarizes the mundane in order to give the reader a renewed appreciation for nature. And, the daily newspaper—a medium signifying community, thrown onto porches, and carried into houses—brings the natural world into the living room and makes local biota resident in the reader's home, dissolves, in some sense, a widely accepted nature/human binary. Because "Open Air Jottings" appears first in the Women's Pages and later the Social and Personal section and not the "News" section, readers may perceive of his writing observations as whimsical or less meaningful (as even the word "jottings" implies). Because his bi-weekly articles coincide with mundane aspects of the domestic sphere (advertisements for children's clothing and cures for piles) the column's placement conjures essentialized representations of women as caretakers, intimating an audience more emotionally receptive to sentimentalized depictions of a domesticated nature. The history of natural history, locally and globally, demonstrates that women were active participants in and writers of natural history, though scholars, until recently, have been inattentive to women's contributions to the discipline. Archival photos of the Vancouver Natural History Society, for example, show a high proportion of women participating in naturalist activities. Jean-Marc Drouin and Bernadette Bensaude-Vincent document "women [as] active cultivators of natural history, especially botany. They attended public lectures [and as a result], women became a target of a whole range of books" (417). Thus, the editor's placing "Open-Air Jottings" in the women's section may reflect both assumptions: implicit parallels between women as domestic home-makers and nature as tamed and sentimentalized landscape; and women's explicit interest and participation in natural history. Letter writing by both sexes and the shifting nature of his column demonstrate that Winson's writing reflected an egalitarian climate within British Columbia's naturalist societies. The Daily Province editors' indeterminate "placement" of Wildwood's jottings in the newspaper further speaks of a greater conundrum regarding the nature essay—its elusiveness, its resistance to and transgression of specific categorization. Go to a bookstore in 2007 and you will find nature essays under various headings—from science, history, and travel, to local interest, autobiography, and poetry.4 This inability to categorize naturalist accounts leads me to my final enquiry regarding the serial nature essay in the newsprint medium. In British Columbian daily newspapers, and in Canadian dailies more generally, the naturalists' accounts have been, for now, marginalized. Vancouver naturalist A l Grass cites a number of other naturalists and columns from British Columbia dailies, which appeared during and after Wildwood's publications that have since been abandoned ("Stray Feathers," Bruce Wittington, John Rogers, Freeman King, Tony Eberts, and Skipper). The genre, Grass notes, 3 Marianne Gosztonyi Ainley, Professor Emerita of Women's Studies at University of Northern B C has done much to foreground women naturalists in Canada; for other research on Canadian women naturalists consult also Beverly Boutilier and Alison Prentice's edited collection Creating Historical Memory: English-Canadian Women and the Work of History (Vancouver: U B C P, 1998), and various works by Rebecca Raglon and Catriona Mortimer-Sandilands. 4 Though stores do not necessarily have to have a "Nature" section, I have yet to encounter either a used or new bookstore that does not have a Nature category. "Nature" seems to be a generic category that holds topics from pet care to astronomy; yet, unless the nature writing deals with a particular subject (minerals, horses, trees), then the texts migrate to other sections (autobiography, local interest, travel)—I would say, nature essays tend to be free-ranging "creatures." comes and goes in cycles. Marginalized in Natural History zines or small press publications, the nature essay seems to have no place in 21st century mainstream media. Natural history's marginality may find precedent in the publication of Rachel Carson's Silent Spring. The sense of urgency and debate inspired by Silent Spring sparked environmental movements and public demand for hard scientific facts. Popularized in the latter half of the twentieth century, environmental news and environmental writing seem to have succeeded the nature essay in newspapers (which in British Columbia found voice through writers such as Terry Glavin, Stephen Hume, and David Suzuki) and to avoid the aesthetic and sentimental appeal found in Winson's nature writing. 5 Hard science and increased sense of urgency have become the norm. "Toxic discourse" and "sexy beasts" seem more newsworthy than the seasonal passage of grasses or the arum's herald of spring. Not that I argue that environmental news is not necessary—it is; rather, I question the displacement of the naturalist's sketch and why the two genres cannot co-exist in current news media.. In The Guardian, Paul Evan's "Nature Watch," in the same manner as Winson's jottings, eludes settling in one section and appears sometimes by hard news and at other times by crossword puzzles. But, England has a long-revered tradition of naturalist writing deeply embedded in a Romantic sensibility, whereas Canada's naturalist tradition seems largely overlooked or has minor literary merit compared to other genres. For instance, as Rebecca Raglon claims in "Little Goody Two-Shoes: Reassessing the Work of Catherine Parr Traill," many Canadian scholars dismiss natural history accounts because the writings do not neatly fit into the pioneer myth, that is, Northrop Frye's "garrison mentality" found in her sister, Susanna Moodie's Roughing It in the Bush. Rather, Traill's work demonstrates an 5 Stephen Hume is perhaps a writer who vacillates between genres: at times his writings are polemical, and at other times, they resemble Wildwood's jottings—intent on the overlooked, the seeming insignificant features of the Pacific Northwest, Hume's naturalist jottings are exploratory pieces that aim, in a gentle tone, to educate and to move the reader. ethos more compatible with John Winson's approach to nature. Nature is destructive, and at times beyond human control, yet other qualities (beauty and function) undermine the assumed garrison of "wildness". Wilderness is also solace: if one is receptive, natural history "unhides the hidden" ("Unhiding" Kroetsch 395) of wilderness and softens the prescriptive "-ness" of "wilder" climes. By examining the genre of the regular featured nature essay—or what I refer to as also the serial nature essay-—in the newspaper, I am expanding Laurie Ricou's observation that community stories are "rewriting regional commonplace into a unique syntax of place" (Arbutus 22). As the daily newspaper brings the everyday into peoples' homes, the serial nature essay conveys a "unique syntax" of bioregional commonplace to the reader's day-to-day living revealing the harmony or disharmony of a community's composition. A regularly featured nature essay, especially one that focuses on the local, delivered in the transitory medium of newsprint extends this outside world to include equally transient events occurring in nature. Awareness of newspaper's physical composition adds another level to the readings of flux in regional commonplace; the organic and elusive characteristics of the natural world manifest in the transient nature of newsprint. The "organic" composition of the nature essay embodies the newspaper's literal decomposition: the paper's ephemeral, fragile cellulose structure and almost-transparent texture, and the ink's impermanency, which transfers so readily to human hands, transforms into what Robert Pinsky describes in his poem "Newspapers" as "the errant, granular pulp" that makes up the "the skin of days" (np). Insofar as the news speaks for the present, "intended only for the day they are delivering the news" (Reah 13), both newspaper text and newspaper material are transitory.cultural artifacts embodying an organic materiality—a limited shelf life. Archival boxes cannot halt the decay of newsprint. And news as an abstract concept - as words and facts "intended only for the day they are delivering the news"—-impresses the notion of both text and medium as being ephemera. A reading that complements nature's flux. Unless the accumulated newspaper articles are raked into a single text, microfiche, or archive folder or snipped and pressed in scrapbooks, the jottings will fall to the wayside like autumn leaves. I refer to serial as a regularly featured column with a sustained theme (a bi-weekly column, in Winson's case) about nature and the climate of the Pacific Northwest, and which employs repeated literary and / or discursive patterns. The interrelatedness conveys a sense of continuity, an unfolding of an ongoing open-air narrative—the harmony of a community. I wish to differentiate, but also to align the term serial with serial poems—to elucidate 'serial' as the word pertains to Wildwood's jottings, which might arguably be read as ongoing ecological "song cycles" of the Pacific Northwest bioregion. Serial, according to the Canadian Oxford Dictionary, is "a story, play, or film which is published, broadcast, or shown in regular instalments." Instalments suggest a continuance of a single, unfolding narrative.(e.g., sections of Charles Dickens' novels published in weekly periodicals). Further, serial also means "(of a person, action, etc.) habitual, inveterate, given to or characterized by the repetition of certain behaviour in a sequential pattern," a definition that potentially applies to the repeated or habitual characteristics of the language and generic patterns or tropes common to nature writing and journalism. A serial poem possesses openness in form, structural "deviations" in punctuation, diction, syntax and disrupted narrative—origami-like folding and unfolding, reminiscent of the ellipses, dashes, and incomplete parentheses in Daphne Marlatt's Steveston. Joseph Conte contends serial poems are "an ongoing process of accumulation" (np). The linguistic, cultural, and habitual accretions that make up the "skin of our days," through the genre of serial nature writing, define a community's composition. By way of example, I offer a brief reading of Daphne Marlatt and Robin Blaser where the writing itself acquires/manifests attributes of the environment. Their work provides a valuable comparison to help the reader orientate Winson's formal stylistic choices, especially as Marlatt's forms and Blaser's conceptualizations recapitulate Ricou's recognition of a regional literature as embodying "a unique regional syntax." Daphne Marlatt's Steveston conjures the Fraser River's bi-directional flow of water, human and non-human migrations, which variously slip through and get snagged in the nettings of ellipses and unclosed, interpolated parentheses. Robin Blaser defines the serial poem as a form where the poet's self "is not at the centre, but a returning and disappearing note" (323). To a degree, the rare intrusion of "F in Winson's writing follows this edict; he marginalizes his presence to foreground Red-spotted garter snake, common horsetail, and coast mole. Winson's de-emphasis of the subjective self is consistent with Blaser: in the serial poem, "[t]he poet is not the centre of meaning. [...] The serial poet chances it to think again as if everything had to be thought anew" (324). Although Winson attempts this formal strategy in his writing, when the "I" intrudes, too often the point of view stands for a voice of authority, legitimizes why "I" speaks for those that cannot speak for themselves. Furthermore, Winson's re-imagining the quotidian realizes Blaser's observation of the serial poem as a sustaining "one dominant musical note or image" (323) that produces a composition "full of grace notes" (325). The musicality that Blaser attributes to the formal "reach of content, rhythmical and musical" (324) in the serial poem's structure is a recurring stylistic and formal characteristic of Wildwood's writing. As a result, his structural arrangements of punctuation and syntax and his onomatopoeic and alliterative language (which often composes the land in musical imagery) animate the local landscape through a syntax that evokes a particular bioregion, which in turn expands the linguistic boundaries of a formative British Columbian community to include (and legitimize) sensory knowledge of place. What I know of Wildwood, of the biography of John William Winson, is limited to a few items of correspondence preserved in his fonds, and to obituaries, a newspaper feature, mention in William H. Turnbull's 100 Years of Beekeeping History in British Columbia, Daphne Sleigh's One,Foot on the Border, and two unpublished auto/biographies written by his wife Ethel Leaf Winson.6 Alan Twigg's B C Bookworld online consists only of two sentences of bibliographical information. John Winson was born December 21, 1874 in Skegby, Nottinghamshire, England and died in Abottsford, British Columbia on December 21, 1969 at the age of 95. Winson seems to have always had his hands in the soil. His two grandmothers put seven-year old John in charge of their gardens, and as a teenager he joined a group of youths headed by a Mr. Stafford on countryside rambles to observe the local flora and fauna, and collect birds' eggs. The son of a coalmine manager, Winson was educated as a mining engineer, but owing either to illness or to a mining accident caused by his father, Winson's time in the mines was brief. Daphne Sleigh observes that Winson had no formal Arts education, but was self-taught, particularly in geology and literature—pursuits that eventually led him to writing, an occupation he describes to his long-time friend J.W. Eastham as "driving the old fountain pen" (Fonds 1). 7 After leaving the mine, he became a store clerk, then immigrated to New Zealand only to find minor work as a sexton and so returned to England. He relocated to London where he worked with wayward youth and served as a lay reader for the Anglican Church. In 1906, lured by the prospect of work with the Canadian Pacific Railroad in British Columbia, he immigrated to Canada only to 6 "From Small Beginnings" is Ethel Leaf's memoir and " A Memoir of J.W. Winson" is a biography. Ethel Leaf wrote the autobiographies in anticipation that a publisher would write a biography of John Winson 7 Winson submitted all his jottings to The Province in handwritten form; he refused, at his age, to learn a new technology, typewriting (Box 1, Correspondence Nov. 19, 1930). experience similar disappointment to that found in New Zealand. He laboured as a fruit picker in Kamloops for one year, and then moved to Vancouver, where he worked for the stationery store Caple Company, and through this shop opened a lending library. Ethel Leaf Wright left London to marry Winson in 1908.8 In 1909, his health deteriorated the doctor told him to move out of the city; he and Ethel purchased 22 acres of land, which they called Oakley Ranch, in Huntingdon, "a townsite without a town—a point on the map" (Winson 6; 1956) adjacent to the Sumas border crossing. In 1918 reporter, Mr. Harbord, for British Columbia newspaper The World visited their house and made note of the plant-life in the Winsons' garden then "[wrote] a spiel telling of these things as if he had discovered them in the country places!" ("Small Beginnings" 16, Fonds 1). Upon hearing this account, The Vancouver DaUy Province's editor Bernard McEvoy suggested Winson write a similar column under the pseudonym "Wildwood"; 9 Winson proposed "Open Air Jottings" as the title (Fonds 1). The column, Ethel Winson notes, "caught on and an interesting fan-mail resulted" ("Memoir of J.W Winson," Fonds 1) An active member of his community, Winson served as Justice of the Peace, Police Magistrate (a position he held until the age of 82), and Chairman of the Fraser Valley The two had been engaged since 1906. They had three children: Enid Vera Winson 1910-1998 (m. Roger Crouter); Roger Leaf 1916-1920; Daphne Hope 1920- (m. Casper "Pat" Galloway). Daphne Sleigh in her One Foot on the Border: History of Sumas Prairie and Area neglects to mention Roger Leaf in her biography of J.W. Winson (letter to Mrs. Hodgson, nd., Winson Fonds Corr.). Winson also had a daughter, Florence Dorothy (b. 25 February 1900) by a previous marriage. His wife, Miss Florence Gi l l , died three days after giving birth to Florence Dorothy. Unable to provide for his daughter, his sister-in-law took and raised by Florence Gill 's sister. I have been unsuccessful in discovering why they decided on "Wildwood" and "Open Air Jottings". Dr. Andy Wainwright suggests that "Wildwood" may have been gleaned from Kenneth Grahame's Wind in the Willows. As for the title, I suspect it comes from John Burroughs' "Spring Jottings". Burroughs writes at the beginning of this piece, "For ten or more years past I have been in the habit of jotting down, among other things in my note-book, observations upon the seasons as they passed,—the complexion of the day, the aspects of nature, the arrival of the birds, the opening of the flowers, or any characteristic feature of the passing moment or hour which the great open-air panorama presented" (51). Wildwood's familiarity with Burrough's works appears in an epigraph in a 1943 Open-Air Jottings chapbook: "One of the most desirable, things in life is a fresh impression of an old fact or scene. One's love of nature may be a constant factor, yet it is only now and then that he gets a fresh impression of the charm and meaning of nature; only now and then that the objects without and the mood within so fit together that we have a vivid and original sense of the beauty and significance that surround us" -John Burroughs [publication unkown] Regional Library for twenty years, was a school board trustee, Sumas Municipality clerk (a position in which he was responsible for paying bounties—ten cents a tail—on Muskrats) and also a writer of "Your Garden Day by Day" and book reviewer for the Vancouver Province newspaper. Winson was also a naturalist in multiple fields (entomology, botany, ornithology, mammalogy, marine biology, and geology), an apiarist, flower and honey judge, hobby farmer, gardener, hiker, and public lecturer on conservation. He held various memberships and fellowships pertaining to natural history: president of the British Columbia Entomological Society (1930-1935), president of the B C Honeymakers Association for 19 years, vice-president of the Pacific Coast Bird and Mammal Society (University of Washington), member of the American Ornithological Union, the American Society of Mammalogists, and the Canadian Naturalist Association. He also received fellowships from the Royal Horticultural Society and the Royal Geographic Society. Currently newspapers foreground negative environmental news, rarely providing accompanying pieces like Wildwood's naturalist's jottings. John William Winson— Wildwood—was both of and before his time, and his jottings have much to contribute to our understanding of a community's climate and of the ways in which we think of such environmental discourses and of what earlier (and even current) naturalist accounts may reveal about the way we approach and write our environment. Newspapers measure the health of a community's climate: when editors substitute crisis news for stories that express a community's well-being then there "blows an i l l wind." Without stories that express the wonderment, the uniqueness of a locale, the community loses sense of place, and subsequently loses the ability to connect and thus care for a region that extends beyond the human. Maybe we need a little reminding, every now and then, of where (and what) we are in relation to our biotic community, as my colleague Travis Mason observes, not of musts and shoulds, but, as Winson claims, experiencing "simply what may be seen [...] to lead the reader out of doors, to point out a little of the beauty and wonder that is there, for the greater enjoyment of life" (Preface Wings and Weather). The naturalist educates the reader about her immediate environment; through names, physical characteristics, and scientific explanation the naturalist identifies distinguishing features of the creatures, the trees, the mountains and rivers. Because the naturalist gives a face to nature, s/he makes us aware why the prevention of the loss of habitats and the extinction of species, and sustainable practices are in every living being's best interest. By recuperating and re-reading Wildwood's "forgotten naturalist" column, specifically as it is dessiminated through newsprint, I analyze how his writings promote and complicate the harmony of a Pacific Northwest bioregional community, and I argue that natural history writing in newspapers is a necessary antiphony to current environmental crisis news. In "Natural" I discuss the historical and geographic context of Winson's works, the function of the newspaper in British Columbia during the first half of the twentieth century, and I consider the implications of the literary traditions that influence his writings. In "Song Cycle" I discuss, in particular, the genre of nature writing and offer poetic and linguistic close-readings of Winson's naturalist accounts. I emphasize as central to nature writing genres the importance of the senses (empathic appeal), particularly to listening to the "music" of the natural world. I demonstrate that natural history, with its colloquial and non-technical language, its focus on subjects within immediate surroundings, its sentimentalized and empathic imagery, and its didactic function make the natural world accessible—a place where everyone has equal footing on common ground. In "Discordant Harmonies" I examine the imperialistic frameworks (First Nations representation and domesticating landscapes for immigrant populations) that frequently emerge in Wildwood's writings; however, I contend \ that Wildwood's encounters with new environments and cultures elicit transformative experiences that often subvert colonizing gestures and attitudes to create a unique syntax of place—a literary and physical space where we can all learn to recognize the chickadee and her chick-a-dee-dee song, and experience the thrill of familiarity when the diminutive bird pays a visit to our backyards. Wildwood teaches us to listen, particularly to the "music" of the natural world, and through listening, to care for the preservation of our community. The naturalist shows us our place in nature. By recognizing our place as a part of nature, as opposed to apart from nature, we extend our definition of community to include the non-human, and hopefully by that association acquire an ethic of care, a desire to preserve and sustain the well-being of that community—to maintain harmonious relationships with our non-human neighbours. C H A P T E R II Natural ^ b Natural " : 6. a. A natural thing or object; something having its basis in the natural world or in the usual course of nature. In modern use: a natural product, a product that has not been processed or manufactured. / b. That which belongs to the natural world or occurs in the ordinary course of things. /10. Mus. a. A note in a natural scale, b. The sign ^ applied to a note to signal the cancellation of its former sharpened or flattened value, and hence a return to its value in the natural scale. I 21. b. A nature poet. Obs. rare.10 During the first half of the twentieth century, British Columbia was comprised of small clusters of settlements connected by tracts of forests, rivers, coastal waters, rural farmland, rail lines, and few paved roads. The early 20 th century maps in B.C geographer Derek Hayes' Historical Atlas of Vancouver and the Lower Fraser Valley tend to mislead, as the Lower Mainland seems a cross-hatching of extensive road ways, canals, and rivers; however, Hayes' accompanying text and photos reveal the illusory quality of these mapped lines. Travel between communities could take hours, and in some cases access to areas was nearly impossible. BC Electric rail lines and the CNR, CPR and Burlington lines were the common connectors that transferred people, goods, post, and news between British Columbia's communities. Effectively, British Columbia was "islands" of pocket settlements (Harris 3). While municipal newspapers promoted local identities, provincial daily newspapers interconnected British Columbia's disparate towns and villages into wider 1 0 "Natural," Oxford English Dictionary Online. >http://www.oed.com/< 2006. 10 July 2006. regional affiliation. For thirty-eight years, Wildwood's nature jottings contributed to the shaping of British Columbia's environmental imagination, a writing of the Pacific Northwest that began on page 17 of The Vancouver Daily Province, Saturday, August 24, 1918. His column does not open with introduction or purpose. Placed at the bottom of the page beneath an ad for Vancouver's City Market, Winson's rambles cover a wide variety of topics, from the colour and ecology of berries, to the birds that feed on the berries (warblers, russet-backed thrush, wood pewee, and flicker), to the feral cats that prey on the native birds, to directing hunters to turn their aim from the birds to the cats, to crows fanning out in "almost regular order" ridding the Fraser Valley fields of grasshoppers, to warnings of picking and eating wild mushrooms, to finally alighting on the "mosquito-hawk" (dragonfly). Vancouver natural historian Bert Brink describes Wildwood as a "congenial man," a nature writer of "the old-style" (Interview). When I ask him if he means in the style of Gilbert White, he nods (at 95 years old, Bert's hearing is not so good) and says Wildwood wrote about the environment in a larger sense. Unfortunately we are interrupted so he is unable to clarify what he means by "larger sense." I suspect Bert Brink means Wildwood writes from a Romantic sensibility and aesthetic: Nature is a being of "simplicity and truth, of sympathy and open-handedness" and proffers "a deeper understanding" ("Hermits" Wildwood 7) of life. Nature, Wildwood writes, is a force [humankind] does not understand, yet is kin to something in himself that is beyond understanding this thing called Life which comes and goes in ways that are strange and in forms that are odd [...] He knows that the flowers on the bank, the leaves on the bush, the moss on the rocks have an existence continuous apart from his own, and entirely independent of his whims and purposes, yet he feels their influence. To his dog, keen on scents and sounds, they have no meaning. Is this realization of the beauty of the landscape a faculty peculiar to the human mind, and different in many minds? Is it a grace to be tended, an art to be learned, a sense to be encouraged like the charm of music or the good feeling of fellowship? [...] "Beauty" and "goodness" [sic] principles of the psyche impossible to define, are the best parts of the best of us, and we shall be happier if we admit we are thrilled by the flowers of spring and all the beauties of the earth for we would be veritable dullards without them! ("Along Wildwood" 4) Though this piece is dated 1950 and Wildwood's column began in 1918, the sentiment of Nature as an elusive and somewhat mysterious "force," and as possessing aesthetic appeal and moral benefit, repeatedly occurs in his earlier work and remains a stylistic and thematic characteristic until the end of his writing career in 1956. Winson's writing contains a high element of artifice: his style, diction and figures of speech hark back to literary traditions that, for 21 s t century readers, potentially evoke moments Ted Leeson claims as "often ludicrous [and] false" (112), literary devices that are "the author's trained monkey whose performance is unwitting and meaningless" (112). To illustrate, Wildwood's "Mount Baker, the Witholder [sic]" begins, "The whiteheaded monarch of the mountains of the coast over-rules many small hills. Rival peaks may be seen from his crown, but from his flanks to the sea his kingdom is absolute" ("Mount Baker" 11). Nevertheless, empathic appeal, which relies on the persuasive power of figurative language, does not conceal the artifice of sense and sentimentality (in fact often a politically and socially motivated inverse)—empathy seeks to engage the reader "as if looking from the inside out rather than from the outside in" (Fetterly and Pryse 107)." Such narrative strategies do not always constitute a failure of sensibility or disfigure the "essence" of the personified object. Arguably, the rhetorical devices such as personification which Winson employs aim to connect the reader to the subject through empathic appeal in attempts to change people's perceptions and interactions with their biotic surrounds. Empathy as a persuasive strategy, Judith Fetterly and Marjorie Pryse claim, is one of the major characteristics of regional literature, and "that the narrator's stance of careful listening fosters an affective connection between the reader of the work and the lives the work depicts" (107). Yes, Winson does inscribe the environment with shrieking branches, laughing winds, and gurgling streams, and Mount Baker the "whiteheaded monarch" speaks more of a writer lost in the sentiments of language than mountain, but I argue Winson's personification and anthropomorphism, to borrow Annabelle Sabloff's words, encourage people to recognize "a sense of the animal nature of human beings" (142). Sabloff s distinction is important, because she invites, like Don McKay, a positive reassessment of the relations between language and the non-human world, especially in the contemporary field of natural science where anthropomorphism is regarded as misleading and unscientific. There are many forms of nature writing: Ted Leeson's approach to nature, for instance, is one of peripheral attention, is the roving gaze of the fly-fisherman: to catch the events within and surrounding a river (synecdoche for nature), for instance, Leeson claims the gaze must not remain stationary but flit—imitative, I imagine, of a yellow-crested kinglet's jitter or black-capped junco's flicker in the thicket. Up to a point, Leeson is right: " During the late 18 lh and early 19 ,h century the language of sympathy, sentimentality, and sensibility found prominence in the newspaper forum; the emotive appeal became a way for writers, especially women, to have their opinions on social and political developments heard in the public domain. The artifice was, in effect, a deliberate strategy and reaction to rationalism, to evoke change through emotional appeal; transformation and education occurred through the emotional identification with the subject more so than on an abstract, rational level. To empathize with another subject one must physically imagine acting out another's life experiences— thus the cliche, to walk a mile in another person's shoes. "the path of most sensitive perception is often indirect" (112); similarly, Wildwood concurs in " A River of Time": Water is moving every moment, never staying, yet water is ever in its place. By watching one spot constantly the eye is deceived; the water rests apparently, the body starts upward [...] By severe concentration the whole river may seem to glide as one body, a body without end or beginning. ("A River" 23) Still, encounters with wilderness are not always either/or situations: rather, the peripheral and locked-gaze work together with the other senses to discern the scuttling forest minutiae or to pick out the immobile, camouflaged moth: to notice the details that require the stillness of a direct stare and all senses alert. Necessary to wilderness encounters is an awareness that Don McKay articulates as " poetic attention" (29). Poetic attention is bound by language that is at once speechless and word-full, an inevitable but thoughtful "enacting" of anthropocentricism; "[i]t performs the translation which is at the heart of being human, the simultaneous grasp and gift of home-making"(McKay 29). For instance, in March 1950, Winson conjures presentiments of global warming. The article combines obituary; eulogy, elegy, prognostication, and call for conservation of the Lower Mainland water supply: A glacier has passed away. Though no tears are shed because of it, the passing is of interest to many, particularly those who have crossed it, when climbing among the peaks of the lovely Garibaldi Park. Shelf glacier was distinct enough to have a name; being a part of the Helmet glacial field, long ago [.._.] The snowfield above it on Panorama Ridge, that fed the glacier still persists on the high slopes, but is no longer pressed into ice. It is natural to give a name to a single thing or even to endow it with a personality. In the Orient, mountains and rivers are said to have life, some are holy. If therefore volcanoes "die" and rivers fail, the passing out of a river of ice may be marked with solemnity. Mountaineers will deem it fitting that a cairn was raised to its memory at the spot where it was last seen. (4) By humanizing the event, Winson renders the passing of Shelf glacier structurally as the death of a community member. Winson abandons his usual alliterative emphasis for a stripped prose fitting for a eulogy. The scarcity of metaphor creates a reserve that paradoxically intensifies the emotional loss, his grief at a passing glacier. Consequently, Winson's combined self-conscious anthropomorphism and sparse prose express a loss felt and understood in human terms and prevent the regret from slipping into bathos. In particular, Winson's insistence that naming and endowing a glacier, a mountain, or a river with personality is "natural" helps unpack Don Mckay's statement that anthropocentricism is "the translation which is at the heart of being human, simultaneous grasp and gift of home-making" (29). Naming bestows story (thus meaning) on place. Naming translates place in human terms. Nevertheless, though naming (renaming, in particular) is a form of appropriation, a means of staking claim to a place (the grasp), Winson appears to suggest that naming can also be an offering (the opening of the clenched fist). The mountaineers' cairn and Winson's jotting translate as human offerings of both gratitude and grief—naming, for Winson, demonstrates the glacier's value within a community. Mourning the death of Shelf glacier acknowledges a broader definition of human-centred community. Winson's allusion to the glacier's disappearance as an equal loss to that of a community member urges readers to contemplate a world beyond human concerns. In other words, Winson asks his readers to imagine a community defined by something more than human; the endangerment or loss of those non-human members (named or unnamed) is an event to be mourned because the passing affects the dynamic of that community. 1 2 Winson's humanizing/anthropocentric strategies ground the mundane in a form particular to Winson, one that advocates, in the spirit of Thoreau's "besidedness," a community of good neighbours—he rewrites a space for the nettles and the towhees to breathe. For instance, his imagery and frequent omniscient narration make the reader alert to the unfurling of the alder leaf, to the Pacific Tree frogs gurking, and to the scent of freshly burrowed soil. The proliferation of gerunds and active voice animates the landscape; sound, smell, taste, sight, and touch evoke physicality of place. Winson's "languaging" of sense perception makes the reader participate in his immediate environment—as poetry makes us attend to language, so too does sensory-motor imagery make us attend to our surround. " A Flood of Wind," for instance, pulses with alliteration to convey the immense power and damage from a windstorm in the Fraser Valley. With the wind's force, clouds "were shivered to snow then were blown to powdered ice-dust [...]. Its depth reached from the earth to the mountain tops at least, its force was vicious towards things that live. Tall firs moaned under its lash like beasts at bay, the bushes shrieked, the river reeds screamed. Birds fled, animals hid from the breath of Death that roared over the rocks. [...] Evergreen leaves of barberry and salal turned grey beneath it" (6). The repeated assonance echoes the open 12 Ironically, printed above Wildwood's article is an editorial cartoon captioned "Animals of the World—Arise!" What looks like a parakeet or parrot stands on a tree stump and exhorts a mob of very angry looking wildlife, 'THOSE HUMAN CREATURES ARE PLANNING TO USE HYDROGEN BOMBS WHICH WILL WIPE OUT A L L LIFE ON OUR EARTH!" (4). Though this cartoon is published five years after the bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, the animals underscore the dehumanization H-bombs signify—animals decrying the effects of H-bombs suggest that calling humans beasts would be an injustice. See Appendix for facsimile. long vowel 'ow' associated with the howl of wind. The stock coupling of moaned and trees seems frayed as with the tired simile "like beasts at bay." On the other hand, clouds "shivered to snow," shrieking bushes, and screaming reeds discombobulate. Reeds do not normally scream. Traditionally, reeds are pastoral instruments that are the mournful yet delightful musical piping of shepherds. Similarly, shrieking usually accompanies tree branches, not bushes. Bushes shake, quiver or whisper. Here, Winson evokes the unpredictability of the Aeolian harp set by an open window and played by the wind. The wind as the agent—as the musician of the trees, bushes, and clouds—Winson sets up a classical landscape where the forces of nature are beyond human control, and foreign sounds heighten the imaginative and unforeseen destructive images of nature. The removal of agency in the passive phrase clouds "were shivered to snow" further emphasizes the illimitable power of the storm. The odd imagery conveys the unusual occurrence and unnatural strength of this windstorm in the Fraser Valley: a storm that has the power to reduce the glossy green of salal and barberry to a "greyness [that] will change to brown deadliness in spring" (6) and exhale the "breath of Death" that intimates plague winds. Interestingly, though, Winson ends this piece reflecting on a different kind of breath: "For this storm of wrath that clouded sunset with its fiery dust, volcanic and furious, was but a breeze in its beginning, and would close as spent breath, though in the valley of its path this is as hard to believe as it is devoutly desired by every creature using breath" (6). Despite the voracity and the fury of the storm, the wind's "life-span," as with living life, human and non-human, remains cyclical. Winson seems to want to assure his community that wind, too, has its beginnings and ends. 1 3 1 3 The fury of the windstorm combined with the piece about the melting glacier, to modern readers, carries implications of climate change. Though scientists have been monitoring the diminishment of glaciers since the latter half of the 20 t h century, I would suspect that during Winson's time of writing, freak storms would be seen as anomalies and glaciers melting would be viewed as cyclical global temperature changes (e.g. miniature ice-ages, warming periods). To state that Winson saw these developments as human-influenced would be conjecture on my part. Despite his resistance to technological progress and his lists of human negligence, his writings 21 Wildwood's image of wilderness is not necessarily one of hostile or uninhabitable space; rather the repeated threat is human apathy and mismanagement. In September 1919, Winson wrote a jotting about conservation of British Columbia's forests, fish, and watersheds in which he moves from the local to the global and back to the local. He relates a cautionary tale of the native buckthorn tree (barberry, cascara) industry and the tree's subsequent increasing rarity in the Pacific Northwest. He claims that only two named valleys 1 4 in British Columbia exist that could support extraction, but then only if responsible cultivation and reforestation were practised. He draws on the "Noble Savage" trope to provide a moral: "Indians, closer to nature than the present plunderers of the woods, took just enough strips of the precious "barberry" for their wants and allowed the tree to recover" (15). If the Indians harvested the bark for profit, they only took from the branches to let the tree continue living. He rounds his lesson with a story about Northern Interior Indians and gophers. To rid farms of gophers, the government put a bounty on the rodent; tails were proof. Both settlers and Indians took advantage of the bounty and trapped gophers. The Indians realizing that the tail was the only needed proof for remuneration, merely cut off their tails, and then released them. Soon settlers noticed that "the country was over-run by bob-tailed rodents whose numbers were by no means lessened by the loss of their appendages! I wish this story could be told to those who are depriving us of one of the finest of our native trees by killing all that they find" (15). The tales of the Indians' preservationist ethic (and savvy) signal "native" solutions and indicate alternative stories to the dominant narratives and conservation practices. repeatedly indicate that humans are responsible for contributing to the spread of invasive species, the endangerment of species, deforestation, water pollution, and so forth but that nature's cycles will'correct imbalances. Yet, Winson does not hesitate to urge readers to act more environmentally responsibly. He does not name the valleys. Wildwood's piece, a mixture of tall-tale, ecology, extinction, and conservation jumps from British Columbia to Africa and to Siberia, highlighting commonalities. When he moves from the local to the global, though, his writing seems to become uprooted, especially as he slips into sweeping generalizations about the relative loss of one species over another and the subsequent loss for humanity. For instance, he posits that because the African elephant destroys crops and "is of little service to man beyond the ivory of his tusks" the South African government authorizes the animals' extermination and then adds, "The elephant is really a prehistoric relic whose extinction will matter little to humanity, now able to afford the roads and furrows with auto-machinery" (15). He follows this phrase with other examples: crocodiles, mosquitoes, panthers, rattlesnakes, and hippos. Only if the reader (community) is familiar with Winson's other writings, his mistrust and disdain for technological progress, or more pointedly, technology's ability to corrupt human beings, will she perceive his ironic tone. Winson repeatedly emphasizes the disjunction between human action and anthropocentric beliefs against the reality of the scope of humanity (as just one of many other components) in the larger scale of planetary life (for instance, in "Owned Earth," man's "earth is less than a mote in a sunbeam, and himself less than a microbe on a mote" (8-9)). The parallel of threatened extinction of exotic species and endangerment of native flora and fauna further creates a sense of bizarre comparison. The leap comparing elephants and buckthorn seems stretched; yet, Winson's strategy defamiliarizes the native species so that British Columbians see the buckthorn as unique as a hippo or crocodile, and thus worth protecting. In addition, because he sandwiches the digression between the story of buckthorn and Lower Mainland hatcheries and the threatened "king of fish" (salmon), his structure seems to exact such a reading. Alongside his observation of natural conditions and conservation efforts in Siberia and Scotland, Wildwood also encourages the preservation of British Columbia's waters. He blames deforestation for the reduction and waste of streams and lakes, and proclaims, "Nature is helpless in such conditions, and should be assisted" (15). Because "[tjhese forests are ours," he admonishes, when a forest is destroyed and/or the land is not agriculturally productive, a new forest should be planted in its place. The literary failings of this particular jotting aside, by making a cross-cultural comparison, Winson effectively demonstrates to his community a bioregional assessment, the complexity of interconnectedness that extends beyond the local and reaches out to encompass the global. Local Indians' methods of extracting buckthorn bark serve as convincing an example as the sustainable fishery practices of Siberia and Scotland. Winson's writings provide bridges between British Columbia's "islanded" communities and illustrate shared commonalities both locally and globally—efforts to conserve local resources are a challenge both at home and abroad, and solutions, Winson suggests, can be found in crossing cultures. C H A P T E R III Song Cycles Song cycle: / A sequence of songs, perhaps on a single theme, or with texts by one poet, or having continuous narrative.15 The music may or may not reveal an over-all coherence, of key schemes, form, and so on; or it may present little more than a unity of mood.16 A small burgundy leather volume captures my attention: Open Air Jottings: Being Notes on Nature between the mountains and the sea of British Columbia by Wildwood, publications from 1929 to 1936. Captivated by the haptic of Wildwood's book (the ribbed texture of the leather, the diminutive size, and the feather-like-heft in my hand), I trace the gold embossed title Open Air Jottings. Instinctively my left thumb turns pages, caresses the crepe-like texture and tracks the trails of printed words. Smells of other hands and a tinge of decomposition—of leaf mould—engulf me. A community of words and shared languages assembled in old books, and within this particular volume opens a Pacific slope bioregional community, a confluence of ocean inlets, islands, mountains, alpine lakes and meadows, rivers, streams and valleys, oolaloe and soopalallie, kinnikinnik, blue lupins, red and yellow cedars, salal, flying squirrels, mountain beaver, nighthawks and mosquitoes, trout and caddis flies, weather systems, and the bud and fall of leaf. Intermingling with the natural is also the cultural fusion located in place names (Cloverdale, Kanaka, Burrard Inlet, Lytton Point, Austen Pass, Sumas, Chehalis, Shukshan and Kulshan, and Olympic Peninsula, to name a few). Through this bound collection of John Winson's newspaper columns, I entered 1 5 "Song Cycle," Classical Works Online. 18/06/2006 > http://www.classicalworks.com/html/glossary.html<. 1 6 "Song Cycle," The New Oxford Companion to Music, 1984. Wildwood's trails, meandered through ecotones—transitional areas between ecological communities that make visible the variable overlapping and interpenetrating zones, the interconnected ecosystems between mountain and sea—and came upon a wider community orchestrated in evolutionary, astronomical, dendrological, glacial and geological measures. Open Air Jottings: Being Notes on Nature between the mountains and the sea of British Columbia. Headlines are meant to encapsulate an article's content, "to give the reader the overall picture [...], its relative importance, [...and] its classification" (Reah 14). Effective headlines seize. Danuta Reah maintains that the headline employs specific strategies: deliberate ambiguity (the use of homophones, polysemes, and homonyms), intertextuality (cultural allusions), phonology (sound play), loaded words, omitting words (determiners), syntactical re-arrangement, and class shift (words operating in multiple classes) (22). The potential wordplay of Wildwood's title intrigues me: Jottings, notes written hastily, often a word laden with negative connotations; a tittle, the smallest part of something; a minute and insignificant amount; a whit, a small written or printed stroke or dot, jot, a derivative of the Greek noun iota: iota, the smallest possible amount. Hurried words that compel urgent and immediate expression, words that grow wings to fly the open air, a bird's eye view of the common ground of the Pacific Northwest: "Being Notes on Nature:" "Mammal to Man," "Downward to Water," and "From Stem to Trunk." As Winson observes in his preface to Weather and Wings, ""Wings" veer and change, "Weather" is never constant; we enjoy Nature "now and then," "here and there," and in this casual manner and not in one continuous flight should these observations be read [sic]" (np). The colon indicates, unlike a full stop, "a weaker boundary"(Huddleston 1735); the jottings inhabit and migrate in the space between the mountains and sea of British Columbia. The colon, unlike the semi-colon, does not call for completeness, tolerates fragments, and grammatical ambiguity. However, the colon signals a complement; thus the antecedent Open Air Jottings harmonizes and leads into Being Notes on Nature. What comes after will modify what comes before and what comes before potentially modifies what comes after. So, these jottings are variously notes written by a human being or living notes, notes with existence or essential notes, core notes (notes with a heart), or notes that encapsulate the wonder of both real and fancy. The headline also embodies the speaker's tone. Winson remarks in "The Source of Beauty": "Musical sounds are not always symmetrical. Neither tumbling waterfalls nor laughing brooks, birdsong nor murmuring winds can be set in metre; or rhythm"(3). As Winson's Romantic and lyrical literary influences indicate, the musicality that courses through his jottings emerges from a tradition of singing groves, talking trees, laughing springs, and echoing caves. Because he demonstrates some knowledge of Aboriginal plant lore, Winson may also have been aware of Pacific Northwest First Nations' belief that bracket fungii (Polyporaceae), a large, red-banded, shelf-like fungii that grows on dying or decaying trees, were thought to be the forest's ears (Terry Taylor, Interpretive Nature Hike). Music communicates. J. E Cirlot suggests that music, harmonization of sound, "is an image of the natural connexion [sic] between all things, and, at the same time, the communication, the spreading and the exaltation of the inner relationship linking all things together" (225). Thus, while Notes as jottings, as sketches, emphasizes "a brief record of facts, topics, thoughts...a hint or suggestion...[a] characteristic; a distinguishing feature,"17 Notes impresses the relationship between image and listener, causes her to sit up and mark (Latin nota) the origin of that "natural connexion [sic] between all things." When a black bear claws a tree, a cougar rubs a boulder or an elk bugles, the animals coordinate a system of notation; 1 7 "Notes," Canadian Oxford Dictionary, 1998. they compose their place, note their territory, voice their field notes—they communicate where and how they are there. To make or leave a mark—distinct—like a bird's song or call, a musical sound, or "tone of speaking, expressing mood or attitude."18 Musical composition is an ordering of notations, an organization of sound. Winson's writing differs from the characteristic stripped syntax and short tempo of journalistic writing. Though, at times he writes in short sentences, his adjectives and adverbs slow the tongue to an amble. The eyes do not skim but trip in varying scales, follow the arc of high and low notes. Northrop Frye observes that when we encounter poetry (or prose) with "sharp barking accents, long cumulative rhythms sweeping lines into paragraphs, crabbed and obscure language, mouthfuls of consonants, the spluttering rumble of long words, and the bite and grip of heavily stressed monosyllables, we are most likely to be reading a poet who is being influenced by music" (xiii). Being Notes on Nature, 'being,' an ambiguous modifier, may be read as a verbal adjective that variously connotes "existence, the nature or essence of a thing or person, a human being, and anything that exists or [is] imagined."19 Or, alternatively/both/and as the multiple possibilities of upper case Being Notes and notes of being, an open-air jotting is an exhaling of living songs. Wildwood writes, for instance, in "The Voice of the Earth" There is a tone universal. It may be that given by the mighty leagues of flame that leap from the rim of the sun. It may have been caught by the caves of the earth and held in its winds and water. The Infinite may roll in deep diapasons that are faintly echoed in the rumbling of earth; [o]ne keynote may carry the voice of all Nature in a melody 18 ibid. 19 ibid. we scarcely recognize because it surrounds us [...] This is the note of singing waters, heard away from their banks; the roar re-echoed from canyon walls, and answered by song of the tree-tops. It is the voice of the city heard from the machines and the multitudes, the myriad blending of high notes and low. It is the hum of contented working bees, the resounding wing beats of myriad insects in the summer air. It is the modulations of distant flocks and herds; it is the tone of the busy marts of men, the purr of happy crowds. Pain and sorrow rise above and fall below this tone, by their extremes restoring the norm. It can be no accident of fate that the human voice meets here, however it may vary, uniting in this chord which binds all men in one, regardless of their words. The note is hummed for consolation in loneliness, for content in company. The stranger knows it for peace, animals know it is without anger. The priests of Thibet [sic] may give the world this passing word between silence and sublimity in unison; , this murmuration of confidence and trust between persons which.is the chant of love, and the note of accord with all Creation, (my emphases 3-4) I consider "The Voice of the Earth" Winson's anthem, for the composition encompasses both structurally and thematically the key to his writings: nature has its own polyphonic voice, one he repeatedly attempts to mimic through onomatopoeia, stacking or omitting punctuation, alliteration, assonance, and consonance. A list of some of his titles illustrates that music in nature is a constant for him: "The Tide of Song," "Frog Notes," "Arrested Melody," "Wellsprings of Song," " A Robin Sang," "The Charm of Birdsong," "Mud Melody," "September Songs," "Sea Sounds," "Winter = Song." In "Unknown Harmonies" Winson laments that "[h]uman.ears are closed to consonance so delicate and to them spring comes in silence". Despite our inability to hear the sound of growing grass, "surging sap" or "awaking rootlets," "with the limitation in physical sense humanity was given the greater gift of imagination and the higher sense of wonder. Knowing that most natural sounds which are caught on our drums are pleasing, bird song, wave ripple, water falling, wind blowing and even thunder when fear is absent, it follows that these smaller sounds would be pleasant too" (135). Because we tend to construct place with abstractions (shared economical, social, and cultural characteristics), the musicality of Winson's prose reminds us of the senses of place often closed to human ears, the senses that make a place alive with physical presence. Winson's musical tropes and schemes reify place, materialize place in soil, wood, water, and weather. Through the sensory imagination—stimulating fingers, nose, ears, and tongue as often as the eyes—Winson sustains Edward Lueder's observation that to make the reader "alive to connection of place" (5), nature writing emphasizes the importance of—thrives on—the idea of "staying put" (5). Winson succeeds in conveying that connection to place by the way he textures and contextualizes science and revivifies the natural world through sense perception, especially the aural (birds, water, and weather). His jottings overflow with affection, promote an intimacy expressed through empathy (sensory imagery), musical and metaphoric language, and sentimentality. Winson's open-air jottings are rhapsodies, nature songs composed in a bi-weekly cycle of newsprint media. Winson's troping of music continues a tradition of musicality common in nature poetry and prose, a tradition that attempts a pastoral or idyllic turning away (apostrophic "O") from urbanity. The early composer(s) of the "Homeric Hymn to Pan" and writers from William Wordsworth to Henry David Thoreau to contemporary writers such as Annie Dillard and Robert Bringhurst illustrate that a voiced earth is a timeworn, yet timeless imagining. In Walden, for instance, Thoreau devotes a chapter, "Sound," to the commingling voices of humanity and nature, and writes in "Solitude," "There can be no very black melancholy to him who lives in the midst of Nature and has his senses still. There was never yet such a storm but it was Aeolian music to a healthy and innocent ear" (202). Poetry, Bringhurst contends, "is the language of the world: something humans overhear if they are willing to pay attention, and something that the world will teach us to speak, if we allow the world to do so [...] a music that we learn to see, to feel, to hear, to smell, and then to think, and then to answer. But not repeat" (162-63). Winson's writings are polyphonic compositions; his literary devices provide phonic echoes, counterpoints and counterparts to the subject matter of his nature essays. Winson relies on structural arrangements (rhetorical schemes, tropes, figures of speech, and phonetics) to imprint images—the notes—of the natural world on readers' imaginations, while also imparting a musicality to his prose that aims to mimic the musicality of the "voice of the earth." In some ways, then, Winson's attempts to mimic sounds hint that a Pacific tree frog's "melodious burbling" (10, 1944) in written language can never, as Bringhurst maintains, repeat the original sound. Instead, Winson enacts a mimetic performance. "The Voice of the Earth," I propose, demonstrates that Winson's reliance on music metaphors constitutes his awareness of language's inability to capture the original sound, as what we hear in the forest or field are only approximations, "echoes" and "resoundingfs]" and "modulations" of the natural world but translated in human terms. The incapacity to capture the original sound, moreover, foregrounds both human desire and inability to contain a living force (for want of a better term) in a written context—some wilder "nature" will always elude the confines of the text— the orality of the nonhuman world that resists tracking. This "failure" (if it is such) manifests in Wildwood's repeated stress of the subjunctive "may" whereby the speaker does not claim to know the origin of this universal voice, but expresses the limitation of human knowledge, whereas in contrast the percussive declarative "it is" proclaims certainty about where the polyphony of nature's voice emerges: among the canyon walls, the rivers, the insects, the birds and herds merging with the "heard" voices of humans. "The Voice of the Earth" structurally mimics content ("tone" the anagrammatic "note" that is universal), a singular but polyphonic voice comprised of "high notes and low," that "roar[s]" and "hums" the confluence of human-made and nonhuman "voices." Underpinning his music-imagery are the syntactical and phonetic devices: alliteration, assonance, consonance, anaphora, and an orchestra of fricatives, bilabials, nasals, gutturals, and the wows of vowels. Within this medley the Earth's voice is constant and "binds all men in one, regardless of their words." Nature bridges the space "between silence and sublimity." Wildwood asserts that Nature articulates what human beings have no words for, foregrounds the limiting "burblings" of human language and translates the loon call heard across Sumas Lake. Wildwood's writings are interconnecting trails between nature and human, paths leading into and away from home gardens, articulations and crossings of boundaries bridging the nature/culture divide. Bringhurst maintains that "one way of answering that music" of the world is to compose music in return or "by telling stories" (163). Thus, Bringhurst's configurations of a bi-directional discourse/singing further collapses boundaries between writer and natural subject; nature writing performs a panegyric duet performed together by both naturalist's and loon's open-air notes. Winson's writings can thus be read as reciprocal exchanges; he translates and thus places humans within nature through stories of community ties. The ambiguous punctuation and syntax of Open-Air Jottings: Being Notes on Nature between the mountains and the sea of British Columbia correspond with Alvin Snide's definition of the form and content of the nature essay: Strict boundaries cannot be drawn around the nature essay, which undergoes constant metamorphosis as it migrates through various historical and cultural contexts. The form's aesthetic and literary dimensions are as variable as the rhetorical and political ends it can serve. Just as the word "nature" ranges in meaning to encompass many different ways of viewing and living in the world, the nature essay is not a monolithic tradition but a body of writing linked by a loose family resemblance. (593) Snide's definition reads like a naturalist's field notes. In describing the nature essay, he borrows a language of field biology: the genre, like the mountain caribou, "migrates" and "ranges"; its literary relations are "linked," are a site of "metamorphosis"; views are "variable" and flux is "constant." Snide's conception of the nature essay as an organic, mutable form and genre, like oolichan and Monarch Butterflies, migrates across/through/over (bio)diverse literary terrains. Snide documents the various literary influences as history, philosophy, travel writing, natural history, autobiography, diaries, prose fiction, and landscape narratives (593), and I add ethnographic accounts, kitchen garden manuals, epic and pastoral poetry, field notes, seed catalogues, scientific reports, oral traditions, and I am certain many other genres. I like Snide's observation that the nature essay is a protean genre, one that takes various interrelated literary forms "linked by a loose family resemblance"— relations that imitate the nature essay's equally organic and mutable interconnected subject matter. 33 Peter Fritzell relates a similar definition of the nature essay as "contingently reassuring root-systems" (11) but diverges from Snide's definition in that he believes the nature essay, at least in the American tradition, does not so much migrate, as attempt "to stay home[,] trying to stay at a detailed and engaging, if frequently troubled, psychobiotic home-by no means a domicile in the conventional sense of the word, but (if things go well) a familiar and, above all, local ecosystem, the bounds of which cannot be separated from the terms, conceptions, and desires of its human maker, user and appreciator" ( l l ) . 2 0 By psychobiotic home, I suggest Fritzell refers to the American nature essay's characteristic (and Winson's writing does follow in a similar pattern) of combining scientific observation with subjective reflection and/or transcendental philosophical enquiry, which brings the world to the local (John Burroughs' Spring Rambles or Aldo Leopold's Sand County Almanac are examples). Despite the practice of explaining the natural world through science, in Wildwood's writings an impression emerges, to borrow J.J. Clarke's words, that science "was too limited, too narrow in its vision, and failed'[...] to account either for the full richness of the natural world or for the deep imaginative powers of the human understanding [.. .that] nature still remained a mysterious place, one which cannot be captured by the rule and compass of science" (113). (Perhaps, Clarke's observation reflects Bert Brink's comment about writing in a "larger sense.")21 Wildwood's jottings contain many Darwinian reflections 1 1 1 The tendency to "organicize" stylistically while defining the nature essay seems a compulsive/impulsive characteristic. Iain Higgins' definition of "Science and Nature Writing," in The Encyclopedia of Literature in Canada, for example, also follows similar patterns as Snide and Fritzell: the two genres, science and nature writing, "can most helpfully be regarded as loosely defined macro-genres—related and often overlapping [...] The two categories are not so much fixed pigeon-holes as open-edged territories—ecosystems populated with unique species, variant off-shoots, natural hybrids, and deliberate grafts".(1010). Note his use of animal and ecological metaphors. At 96 years old, Bert Brink is the longest standing member of the Vancouver Natural History Society and a naturalist writer. He is the only person I have met that personally knew John Winson; however, Bert was only a young boy when he met Winson. He describes Winson as a "gentlemanly" person, who wrote about nature in the "larger sense." When Iprompted him to explain what he meant by this, I asked did he mean in the manner of Gilbert White of Selbourne, to which he nodded, and said he wrote about the environment in a more "old-fashioned" sort of way. Unfortunately, we" were interrupted and I could not ask him what he meant by "old-on evolution and survival of the fittest, and contemplations on Natural Balance, but his observations are commonly couched in uncertainty or probability. Despite Wildwood's attempts to explain the natural world through the lens of science, I sense for Wildwood science does not cover sufficiently the "greater" questions of existence and creation: the ""beauty" and "goodness" principles of the psyche impossible to define [sic]." For example, when Wildwood describes the turning worm, he details the changing conditions of soil from winter thaw to spring surge, and how.the hardening and loosening soil directs the worm's survival. Then, as if science cannot provide full enough expression to the "turning worm," mimicking his imagery, Wildwood's prose lapses into a sexually charged rhetorical climax that erupts in new ground: "the turning of the meek worm is a revolution of the cosmos, a swinging of the world towards warmth, the first pulse of life in the throbbing sap, the tremor of awaking Nature [...] The impulse to rise through rain-soaked earth, and to feel again the airy sod, was the urge to new free life. Only in such wetness can the earthworm travel, and the creature was hungry for new ground" ("The Turning" 6). The pulsing, throbbing, tremor, wetness, and hunger suggests that the science could only sustain Wildwood's descriptive "thrust" so far and then...ebullience (the first caress of spring air) gets the better of him, and like the life-force of spring, he cannot contain his own.. .jouissance. Fritzell's root systems are like rhizomes interconnecting literary traditions rooted, grown (growing), and sprouting predictably and unpredictably in the local and branching out to global terrains (nation, ethics, and social justices). Edward Lueders, further adds that "[a] distinguishing mark of the nature essay—and this has been true from the beginning of the fashioned." I assume he was referring to an 18 lh and 19 th centuries' transcendental and sentimental traditions, rather than the later natural histories that emphasized imperial observation over meditative ramblings about nature. genre onward—is precisely the attempt to harmonize factual knowledge and emotional knowledge" (3). Subsequently, Lueders complements Fritzeirs definition so far as to acknowledge that a core trait of the nature essay is the interplay between science and the senses—the empathic responses that slogging through a skunk-cabbage-filled swamp evokes. The nature essay is an organic, mutable genre paradoxically rooted in home and psyche, a lyrical form that modulates with the fluctuations and layerings of the earth's voice. Winson's writings (song-cycles) are not constant but do indeed stylistically and in content "veer" and "change" like the wing and weather, shift with changing local, global, political, social, environmental, and economic climates. Because nature for Ted Leeson is a "thing in itself," and thus eludes the constraints of humanizing figures of speech, to make a river dance is an act of dominance. This is not a habit of rivers, according to Leeson, but a habit of humans: to ascribe human traits to the nonhuman world. He argues that such metaphoric choices (what is.essentially the pastoral and Romantic traditions) endorse human degradation of the environment. Quoting W.D. Wetherell, Leeson claims, "the devaluation of words makes for a devaluation of the things words describe, and sets up a vicious circle from which there is no escape" (113). And, Leeson adds, "Words can mold our vision to see one thing as another, making it less troublesome and more susceptible to control, and in the end eliminating any reason to see it differently" (113). Leeson, to some extent though, misses the literary and rhetorical value (or point) of the roots for this metaphoric predisposition to anthropomorphize. . Leeson is correct that anthropomorphism was probably a human response to domesticating unknown and often terrifying wilderness; however, domestication of landscape does not rely solely on anthropomorphism. That nomenclature, Wildwood notes, is a means for people to know where they are located and where they are going: "The human animal is 36 always eager to know where he is, rather than what he is. When travelling any strange name will soothe and satisfy if it "places" him. He no longer feels lost. Other animals are never "lost" under normal conditions, they need no names, and they can find their way home" (my emphasis "The Right" 4). Naming signposts wilderness. Winson, who employs language like "trained monkeys," still retains nature as a "thing in itself," even though he couches it in humanizing terms. Within Winson's anthropomorphic contemplation, space remains for the animal to be its biological self. Winson's comparison between human and animal sense of finding "home" underscores both relation (as animals) and dissimilarity (how the human animal and the other animals recognize home: language and reason versus sense or instinct) the self-conscious constructedness of his lexical choices.22 Thus, Leeson's argument, while trying to dissemble the anthropocentric constructions of nature, which subsequently alienate the human as observer (rather than as co-participant), professes a deep literary ecology. Inadvertently, Leeson becomes trapped in a paradigm of nature writing as either/or (or nature/culture binary, a model that wants to keep human cultural apparatuses distinct from river, tree, or trout). He posits that anthropocentric metaphors fail at expressing the true core of nature, thus are "an unpalatable disfigurement of some original essence, like a piece of airline chicken" (113). Leeson fails to acknowledge that language is both our limitation and our nature of communication. We can only proximate—translate as best we can with words we have—our world. Leeson neglects that humans are a part of nature and language is a part of human nature, and that to describe nature therefore in varying anthropocentric degrees is 2 2 In "The Right Direction" Winson explicates the diverse ways that various animals sense or lose sense of home: seabirds, horses, the pea moth in the Fraser Valley, the ant, salmon, eels, and unsettlingly, "some native races [who] possess the gift of direction without consciousness." He then notes that this unconscious "gift of direction" "lingers in varying degrees among "civilized" people. Some can find their way better than others, but less by reasoning than by feeling. Man apparently dropped this "sense" for the higher power of mapping and compass-making that have made the world known to him" (4). inescapable. Or, as Don McKay remarks, "we see and describe the world in human ways, [so] we can see that, at bottom, a human perspective is impossible to escape. Though we may devote attention to the screech owl or the cat-tail moss, we are inevitably translators of their being, at least when we come to representation" (98-99). And, Leeson's perception of "how you see is what you see" (115) ultimately rejects the inverse of his own proposition ("words can mold our vision to see one thing as another"): words also have the power to unmold our vision to see one thing as another. Denying the possibility of singing or dancing rivers, in . some ways denies nature's capacity to be anything other than a thing in itself, to have a being that is worthy of our respect, not as Leeson suggests just of our disrespect. "Peopling" the natural world, though, (as he labels this style of nature writing) has the potential to shift perception, to see as aboriginal communities do, for instance, a natural world peopled with our relations (Snide's "family resemblances") and thus deserving of respectful treatment. In a "peopled" landscape, human beings are placed in a face-to-face relationship. As Bruce Foltz claims in "Nature's Other Side: The Demise of Nature and the Phenomenology of Givenness," "a face requires an inside. A face is inside-out—is the inside facing out. From what had once been a surface alone, not yet even an exterior, now an interiority faces us. What faces us has an inside, and what has an inside is alive" (333). A figured nature cultivates reciprocity, compels us to dance and sing along with the river. Makes us want to know the other through/beyond the surface. In addition, the traveler of the woods or roadside, Winson remarks, "knows that the flowers on the bank, the leaves on the bush, the moss on the rocks have an existence continuous apart from his own, and entirely independent of his whims and purposes, yet he feels their influence" ("Along Wildwood" 4). Answering back, singing back, as poet and naturalist Robert Bringhurst exhorts, becomes a strategy to reciprocate—an imperative to hear, to smell, to taste, to feel, to see, to think beyond the human—to harmonize. In the tradition, then, of British naturalist Gilbert White of Selbourne, Winson "stays put," and over thirty-eight years publicly records in a daily provincial newspaper a particular bioregion. More importantly, Winson's nature writing endeavours to articulate the nature writing genre's traits pronounced by Robert Finch: [tjhese are not just places, but states of mind, rituals and explorations of the psyche, attempts to redefine who we are and where we are. This is ultimately as important as any body of purely ecological information or knowledge, for ultimately we can only care for and connect with that which we have come to love. I think that only by storying the . earth do we come to love it, does it become the place where imagination chooses to reside. By storying the place where we live, it gives us back a sense of who and where we are. Through stories, we literally identify with the land. We love what we come to call home. ' Nature writers teach us to recognize home. (40-41) And so, through the voices of the earth, Winson's nature song-cycles reconnect the communities of British Columbia to a living home, compositions harmonizing the relationships between the human and non-human. C H A P T E R IV Discordant Harmonies .39 Discord: / A chord which is restless, jarring to the ear, and which requires to be resolved one way or another if its presence is to be justified to the ear.24 b. Disagreement or want of harmony between two or more musical notes sounded together; dissonance.25 Harmony: / The element of agreement between voices or parts in a composition.26 b. Agreement of feeling or sentiment; peaceableness, concord.27 Newspapers, in general, address (and define) readers as a homogenous group, as people with shared beliefs and similar backgrounds. Newspapers aim to evoke a specific response that "defines" both the group and the papers' norms. Newspaper language sustains the homogeneity with identifying gestures: ethos, tone of voice, and inclusive/exclusive diction, for instance the pronouns "we" and "our." In addition, as cultural artefacts, newspapers operate on diverse levels (graphological, phonological, lexical, syntactic, and cultural) to influence and shape readers' perceptions (Reah 62). 2 8 While the newspaper nature essay brings the natural world—the local biotic and abiotic environment—into people's homes, the genre's function in teaching readers "to recognize home" domesticates the natural 231 borrow my title from Daniel B . Botkin's Discordant Harmonies: A New Ecology for the Twenty-First Century. Toronto: Oxford UP, 1990. Botkin breaks down many of the Nature myths that misinform and thus lead to ineffective conservation strategies. In particular, he focuses on the myth of the Balance of Nature theory, which Winson on occasion discusses and at times seems sceptical of. 2 4 "Discord," The New Oxford Companion to Music. 1984. 2 5 "Discord," Oxford English Dictionary Online. 2 6 "Harmony." The New Oxford Companion to Music. 1984. 2 7 "Harmony," Oxford English Dictionary Online. 2 8 Newspapers' connection to other aspects of social and cultural events, their materiality and language (ink, paper, "columns," "features," and "articles") make the newspapers both literal and figurative artefacts, in the same manner, for instance, as in Robert Kroetsch's "Stone Hammer Poem," a stone maul becomes/is mundane, function, history, region, culture(s), geology, tool, language, sense, personal, paperweight, and poem (Gk poiema "something made, created"). world to fit specific shared values. Nature writers perform a didactic role: nature stories communicate relationships, proper etiquette—"land ethics." By relating interconnections, the genre sets out to reveal the overlooked aspects of nature, to seek out self-recognition and reflection in the shared or different characteristics or behaviour of other species. In John Winson's case, his nature jottings perform colonizing gestures such as using English vernacular names for native species, describing introduced species, comparing the cultural and physical landscapes of the New and Old Worlds, and referring to First Nations' practices in the past tense, intimating a dead or dying culture. These discordant harmonies produce many of the contradictory qualities of Winson's work, solutions and ideologies at variance with today's multicultural/ethnic/Aboriginal interrelationships and scientific knowledge.29 Knowledge of local biota "legitimizes" the inhabitants' claim to place ("The Pacific" Ricou 262). When Robert Finch states "by storying the place where we live, it gives us back a sense of who and where we are" (40-41), he does not account for the story becoming/being an act of reinscribing home, especially in such a region as the Pacific Northwest which was already textured—woven, carved, sewn, sung, danced, painted, and spoken—with particular syntaxes of community. Nature (the physical space) becomes a cultural space, no longer a "wild" place. Issues pertaining to nomenclature, inhabitation, resource extraction, and land-reclamation projects disrupt the harmonious notion of untouched wilderness: a cultural space z y Both terms ethnic and multicultural are problematic terms, especially in relation to Aboriginal cultures. Both words—terms that were contested by the Hawthorne Report's notion of Canadian Native peoples as "Citizens Plus," a position that recognized Aboriginal peoples as entitled to the rights of Canadian citizens, but also as a status that acknowledged their rights as original inhabitants of Canada, rights negotiated and obligatory beyond regular Canadian citizens. Harold Cardinal pronounced his opposition by claiming that the only people who should define Native identity are Native people, and "The challenge to the non-Indian society is to accept such an updated definition" (25). Minister of Northern and Indian Affairs, Jean Chretien and Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau's conception of all ethnic peoples of Canada as equal and the Canadian government's attempts to repeal the Indian Act based on their conception of equality undermined Hawthorne's decree of Canadian Indians as Citizens Plus; the repeal, also known as the "White Paper," implied that Canada's Indigenous peoples were no more than an ethnic group within Canada. Such a premise suggests that Native peoples defined as an ethnic group would compromise land claims and treaty rights—or in the case of Native peoples of British Columbia impede their right to negotiate treaties. 41 appropriated from Indigenous peoples. And, despite his conservation ethic and his "benign" recordings of St6:lo and Coast Salish terms and cultures, Winson is complicit in cultural and environmental appropriation. For instance, Winson attends to the negative (and, ironically, colonizing) effects that introduced flora and fauna have on native species, and as a result, his inclusion of First Nations' names reveals a resistance to a totalizing, yet still problematic, domestication of the local landscape. Instead, his writing strategies, though conforming to generic literary tropes and schemes of the nineteenth century Gentleman of Letters (Romantic and sentimental language, the rejection of the urban for the rural, horticultural reflections), his insertion of specific "regional syntaxes" of the Pacific Northwest, and his inclusion of St6:lo names and cultural practices suggest transformation. For example, he writes that farmers are "indebted to" the North American Indian's "patient industry" cultivating corn and other grains. His neglect of the history of corn in the Pacific Northwest maintains a pan-Indian association that does not differentiate between distinct aboriginal nations and their local food sources. Furthermore, despite his appreciation of Native industry, his language perpetuates imperialistic sentiment and stereotypes: "we must bow to our Red Brother! The Indian has done a most civilized thing, rewarding us nobly for our shoddy and rum" (10 Oct. 1919: 2 ) . 3 0 His writing indicates a tension between imperialistic frameworks and attitudes and transformative encounters with a new environment and cultural ways—discordant themes that, in some instances, put European practices into question.31 He further reaffirms his imperialistic gestures with pieces that laud early explorers and pioneers, as well as analogies between plant growth and human settlement or conquest. 3 0 Shoddy is inferior fabric, cloth, material. 3 1 Transformative experience refers both to Winson's adaptation to new environment circumscribed by the values of a colonial culture and to the transformative influences of Nature on the soul promulgated by the American Transcendentalists, Muir, Emerson, and Thoreau—the latter transformation evident in Winson's philosophical and religious meditations. In 1920, he begins an "Open-Air Jottings" commemorating the early explorers "who first found our coast" and imagines that "Evergreen Land" must have been the first words used to describe the coast. Winson reprimands locals who "take little trouble to learn the simple differences" within the evergreen "hills and watercourses." He muses that a morning walk would educate residents about Douglas Fir, spruce, Lowland Fir, Western Hemlock, pine, or the evergreen shrubs, the "salal and twin-flower [that] are in constant co-operation to keep the earth green," and the mosses that cling to rock, snag, roots and crag that weave "the fairest carpet of earth [which] show[s] neither seam nor rent" (17 Jan. 1920: 16). Winson's admonition intimates, perhaps, a desire to destabilize certain generic, colonial proprietary values of his community: Western Hemlock and Douglas Fir for lumber, sockeye and chum for salmon. Viewing species by generic classifications (timber, fish, minerals) removes connection to particularities. For humans, names provide stories; stories create meaning; meaning reveals connections and resemblances. A nameless object becomes de-naturalized and degradation or exploitation of the object is legitimized, especially when promoted in the interests of human economic advantages. However, when Winson cites floral and faunal names and St6:lo and Chinook terms, he sketches an environment with distinct features, features that break up the monotony of seemingly endless greens, greys, and browns: the oxidized-blood coloured bark of Western Red Cedar and the florescent-slate coloured underside of Western Hemlock needles. Knowing the names of native plants and fauna particularizes place, but which names are used and who uses the names determines what kind of place is being figured. What follows is an exploration of the discordant notes in Winson's collection: contradictory and unsettling compositions of appropriation and imperialistic imaginings of encounter and transformative experiences in a new land. Unlike the slow ecological changes traced by British naturalist Gilbert White's Selbourne, Winson records the Pacific Northwest's accelerated settlement, and, in many instances, subsequent environmental degradation. When nature enters the sphere of the home, domesticity becomes an issue, especially when delivered through the medium of newsprint. Winson's writings—which shift between pastoral (rhapsody) and laments of environmental degradation (jeremiads)—thus complicate Lueder's notion of "staying put" with the intention of "settling in." Winson's newspaper column domesticates the Pacific Northwest bioregion. Winson's writing strategies can be interpreted as a colonizing gesture, a form of literary "ecological imperialism" (Crosby). The idea of literary ecology expresses the relations of literature to its environment. Environment in Winson's case is a colonial British Columbia. Crosby's phrase "ecological imperialism" proposes that the invasion of alien flora and fauna, and European-spread diseases, had greater effect in colonizing land and displacing Indigenous peoples than military conquest. Plants brought either deliberately or accidentally by explorers and settlers flourished in similar temperate climes, and provided sustenance for the introduced livestock also brought to the new lands. Many of the foreign "weeds" thrived in the new land and crowded out native flora. Farming and ranching in Canada are two of the more obvious examples of concurrent displacement of Indigenous peoples and native flora: the removal of Native peoples from arable land onto reserves, followed by the deforestation of valleys for grazing cattle or the clear-cutting of native prairie grasses for European strains of grains. Winson's printed jottings illustrate the interconnections between British Columbia's environment, settlement, and the dissemination of imperialistic thought. Through popularized science and the language of sentimentality, Winson "tames" the "wild" (which includes unfamiliar Indigenous customs and terminology) for British Columbia's growing immigrant population. Winson's writing style, however, retains many qualities of the English Gentlemen of Letters, and demonstrates many stylistic conventions found in eighteenth and nineteenth century ethnographical accounts: stylistic conventions that reveal his imperialist underpinnings. In "Sedges," for example, Wildwood sets out to describe the ecology and physiology of sedges and alludes to parallel human migrations and colonisations of the land. The first sentence is unexceptional and offers no immediate image of sedges: "The sedges are grasses of coarseness and strength, generally preferring the water's edge" (37). He continues: "This strength and harshness was known to the ancient Anglo Saxon who lived near and among them, and knew how they cut the fingers when grasped, or the bare leg or arm as he passed quickly through them on the way to the water" (37). He then sketches grasses as on a "mission" and sedges as "vanguard[s] of verdue [sic]" (38). The sedges, "like soldiers, are to be found on the borders of empire, their spears raised where and when defence is needed" (38) , whereas grass "cover[s] the earth wherever higher flora fails" (38). Sedges "march on to the last high snows" while "other plants linger shiveringly" and trees halt before the winds (39) . By beginning the piece with an allusion to Anglo Saxons (conquerors and colonizers) and with military metaphor, Winson anthropomorphizes sedges while still imparting didactic warnings and lessons of plant ecology. He conjures the physiological features of sedges; heads spiked and leaves as "shields" (39) the plants are "armed with silicate cells of glassy hardness and they cluster their roots immovably," Winson reminds us of their main distinguishing characteristic in a childhood rhyme: ""sedges", [punctuation sic] the grasses of "edges", the grasses that "cut"" (37). 3 2 The marching, guarding, defending, and settling in Silica, which is a component of glass, is a quartz substance that occurs naturally in some grasses and plants— the compound makes the leaves hard or coarse to touch (Pewterwort or Horsetail {Equisetum hyemale L.) is a good example, as the plant was used to scour pots and, as the name suggests, polish pewter). The silica in sedges (the compound that makes the "sedges have edges") is an adaptive trait that protects.the plant from grazing animals and prevents the leaves from drying in hot climates. The roots "clustering] immovably" is another inhospitable territory (rocky alpine and unstable river's edge) are on one level a common trope of plant migration, adaptation, and colonization of specific biogeoclimatic zones. On another level, though, terms such as "empire," "Anglo Saxon," and "mission," prompt an allegorical or symbolic reading of European colonization (and nation-building sentiment) of riverbanks, valleys, and mountains by early explorers and settlers (predominantly white, Anglo-Saxon descendants) who fortified the land so that other migrants / "plants [could] follow their steps[;] for where the sedges have passed, herbs and flowers may tread safely" (38). Analogies between pioneers and plants seem a common trope with Winson. For instance, in "Hazel Blossoms," he makes a direct analogy: "The pioneer can be worthy of honor, even if it be but a plant" (6). The most hale and patient plants are the ones that "survive a winter, and [...] dare a new season's promise." Winson's paean to the Hazel Blossom and sedges pays parallel homage to the fortitude of early settlers vis a vis local plants; but more significantly, much as giving names (stories, thus features) to local flora and fauna, his comparisons further appeal to a legitimization of land settlement, of settling in. The significant emphasis on sensory and motor-imagery (empathic appeal) in "Sedges" works only to a certain extent; the military metaphors correspond less with the "sedgeness" of sedge than with Anglo-Saxon hardiness and conquest, and the imperialist myth of Canada as a terra nullius. Though Winson effectively evokes the tactility of sedges and slips into moments that illustrate the botany and ethno-botany (historical and cultural uses of sedge: food, ropes, thatching, cushions, and insulation), syntactically, Winson's prose thrums rather than marches. The musical quality of his language seems at odds with the martial tattoo that the soldier imagery prompts. To illustrate, Winson writes, "Where mountain tops have crumbled in loose scree, and beyond the Alpine flowers that are sworn to adaptive feature, one that facilitates the effectiveness of the plant's entrenchment in and rapid spread throughout muddy banks, or resists desiccation in arid soils. poverty and savage weather, the sedges steadfastly pursue their upward course braving frost and wind and smothering snows, valiant in bearing the brunt offence on the shields of their leaves, offering hard edges to all that oppose" (39). Because of Winson's military metaphors, I expect short, explosive staccato rhythms; I expect the prose to beat out a tattoo to match the associative aggressive imagery military metaphors invoke. Instead, I find complex clauses connected by commas and semi-colons that create the sense of a slow tempo shift. Winson favours alliteration and sharp edged s-sounds of "loose," "scree," "flowers, "sworn," "savage," "sedges," "steadfastly," "pursue," "frost," "smothering," "snows," "offence," "leaves," "edges," and "oppose," and bilabial pounding foot-falls of "poverty," "upward," "braving," "bearing," and "brunt." The lumbering march effectively reimagines an early explorer or settler's steady yet laborious movement through the impenetrable tangles of salal, blackberry, salmonberry, and sedges. The dense, slow moving tempo of prose recalls endless mountain chains and wooded valleys, a compositional movement of peaks and rests, of conquest and settlement. Winson's portrayal of sedges establishing clusters of colonies in diverse terrain and then spreading: out from these sites sketches an invasion that is not the brutal clash of battle and conquest but a menacing, slow and steady march forward. The twinning of ecology and colonization: a British Columbian—Canadian—human history of contact and conflict embodied in the "edges of sedges." The historical allusions evoke the contact and conflict between European settlers and First Nations within Canada—the slow, but steady colonization westward (and in British Columbia, primarily because of mountainous terrain, a north/eastwardly movement), whereby Native populations weakened and decimated by poverty and disease were supplanted from arable land and segregated on reserves by the hardier, immune European "stock." Winson follows a narrative tradition common to journalism and travel accounts of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. These literary accounts translated the discoveries and complexities of sciences for European readers. As Mary Louise Pratt maintains, these genres "were central agents in legitimating scientific authority and its global project alongside Europe's other ways of knowing the world and being in it" (29). Writers, such as journalists who wrote for popular publications, disseminated a European ordering of nature, which reaffirmed "even more powerfully the authority of print, and thus the class which controlled it" (Pratt 30). Pratt proclaims that naturalist accounts cast a totalizing Imperial "gaze," a blinkered perspective that dislocates and "naturalizes" local biota within "European-based patterns of global unity and order" (31). Subsequently, the naturalist account - and Winson, as a naturalist, becomes implicated in Pratt's model - "as a way of thinking interrupted existing networks of historical and material relations among people, plants, and animals wherever it [natural history] applied itself (32). Oral Indigenous cultures, such as the St6:l6, decimated by European diseases and legislated cultural prohibitions, and segregated on reserves, were summarily mapped "through verbal representations^] in turn summed up in nomenclatures, or through labelled grids into which entities would be placed. The finite totality of these representations or categories constituted a "mapping" not just of coastlines or rivers, but of every visible square, or even cubic, inch of the earth's surface" (Pratt 30). Indigenous cultures did not have (or had limited) access to the Anglo political, social, publishing, and educational arenas to offset the stories propagated by these ethnographic and botanical narratives.33 As a result, despite his frequent praise of aboriginal practices, the 3 3 Canadian First Nations began to make limited, but politically effective, inroads in Canadian publishing in the late 1960s and early 1970s, though they were predominantly small press publications or newspapers. The First Nations' literature of the late 1960s and early 1970s took the forms of poetry, plays, and political/personal manifesto (Unjust Society: The Tragedy of Canada's Indians, I Am an Indian, Defeathering the Indian, The Only Good Indian,), and later autobiography (Maria Campbell's Halfbreed). Canadian First Nations' literature • (published) prior to the late 1960s is typically legends and accounts of Native life (Chief Dan George, George aporia in Winson's jottings unwittingly records the discordant strains of colonialism and obstructs the potential for more expansive and inclusive community ties. As much as Winson writes within and about local colour, he projects an imperialistic (global) framework. Inherent in Winson's writing are "imperial eyes," a gaze that appends the Pacific Northwest into the greater expanse of British colonies. One can argue that if Winson had remained in England or New Zealand his "regional syntax" would not have been much different than it became in the Pacific Northwest. The Romantic and sentimental tropes in Winson's writing potentially undermine a "regional syntax"; thus, the songs of the Northwest crow would not vary greatly from the call of the New Zealand Kea. The figurative language and devices depicting mountain parrot would evoke the same keen intelligence, and inspire the same repulsion and grudging admiration from its human neighbours, as the Northwest corvid. Therefore, what I hear as sedge movement in the slow but steady syntactical rhythms densely "understoried" by descriptions of Pacific Northwest rainforest could equally be the migration of sedges to the shores of Lake Wanaka in New Zealand. Regional syntax in Winson's writing is merely, perhaps, the apostrophic turns and anthropomorphic figures reminiscent of Keats and of Wordsworth. Tempering this colonialist view, however, are the immediate, transformative experiences from contact and conflict with a new environment, a Pacific Northwest environment already inscribed with a natural and cultural history-—tensions and transformations converge to inspire a "regional syntax." Learning to adapt to new flora and fauna, ecosystems, and other cultural practices often require new mind-sets. In other words, while Winson tries to fit the new environment into Anglo-European frameworks, there are aspects of his encounters with his new home that Clutesi, and Nerval Morriseau are three major figures during this period); though a personal/political manifesto appeared in the works of Clutesi, Morriseau, and George, they tended not to be as vitriolic as the later political writings of, for instance, Harold Cardinal and Waubageshig. resist such constrictions: at a loss for familiar terms or models, he must invent new ones or borrow from existing local First Nations. Approximations of the new environment manifest through unusual sound and motor imagery or in untranslated St6:lo names. Consequently, environment influences Winson's writing, and in turn, his writing, disseminated through newsprint, expands the community's language, thus creating a regional vocabulary and syntax. Winson's "Chehalis" exemplifies the exclusionary and paradoxical tensions of the imperial gaze and the transformative experiences of new encounters. Wildwood describes the native mountain beaver (aplodontia rufa), and notes, "This is the true "chehalis". [sic] Chehalis now is the name of a county in Washington, a town, a creek, a point, and Indian reservation and tribe. But the animal was here first [...] The Indians have dialects, as other nations have, and different tribes gave the animal different names, as showt'l, sewellel, oukala, swakla, and o-gwah-lal, but about the Olympic peninsula the word is chehalis" (Wildwood Trails 192). He provides an English translation as "the animal that crawls"; however, the Native name he refers to remains ambiguous as bothchehalis and sewellel precede "the animal that crawls." Nevertheless when he discusses the human cultural associations, he speaks in the past tense: Indians dressed in the furs of Chehalis, and though Lewis and Clark thought the mountain beaver "not desirable as food, [...] the natives enjoyed it and found it very easy hunting" (193). Winson's attention to aboriginal languages presents a paradox, a contradiction that seems to undermine his racist dismissals. To take an active interest in promoting local aboriginal languages to a settler community intimates a desire to communicate encounters with new cultures, albeit new cultures that his writings suggest are dying or dead. His interest in local First Nations perhaps originates in his network of Fraser Valley acquaintances. Winson was friends with historians and ethnographers Casey and 50 Oliver N . Wells from Chilliwack. 3 4 The Wells brothers collected local Native myths and recorded taped interviews of St6:lo friends. Both brothers were interested in the cultural histories and language of Squamish, St6:lo and Nooksack Nations, and the phonetics of the — 35 ' Halq'emeylem (St6:lo) language. Sharing of St6:lo place names, ethnobotony, and cultural practices among this local network intimates that some Native knowledge was common knowledge among immigrants. A historical retrieval of the ethnographical and Indigenous community relations within the lower mainland goes beyond the scope of this paper. However, I conjecture that Winson may have been connected to the St6:lo peoples in more intimate ways than just through book lore; his curiosity and love of learning, his administrative and social participation in his local community and his broad spectrum of acquaintances would imply that while his writing enacts exclusionary strategies, in his personal life he may have been more inclusive of First Nations. 3 6 Winson published another sketch titled "Mountain Beaver" in Wings and Weather (1932), but spends less time listing coastal Salish names and history and focuses more on the ecology of the rodent. His impulse not to translate all of the Native names for mountain beaver in some ways re-enacts the rodent's elusive nature. Primarily a nocturnal rodent, the mountain beaver is rarely seen during daylight. Because Winson does not translate and offer alternate histories of the species, the rodent's natural history linguistically manifests in his equivocal writing style: during Winson's time very little was known about its ecology, and today, very few people in the Pacific Northwest know of its existence (Drew Online). What remains significant about Winson's choice of the mountain beaver is that the rodent is a 3 4 Casey Wells: 1907-1970. Biographical details about Oliver Wells' archives can be found at Centre for Pacific Northwest Studies <http://www.acadweb.wwu.edu/cpnws/wells/wellstitle.htm>. Oliver N . Wells: 1902-1976. Biographical information and fonds contents can be found at Chilliwack Archives <http://aabc.bc.ca/WWW.chi.archbc/displav.CHI-1342> 3 5 Halkomelem is the anglicized pronunciation. 3 6 Though Winson rarely names particular First Nations, many of the geographic, linguistic, and cultural practices he describes seem to correspond withth St6:lo and Coast Salish groups. species that has not only carved a narrow, bioregional ecological niche over 40 million years, but also the rodent transgresses political boundaries. The animal's territory ranges from southern Oregon to southern British Columbia and represents Winson's extended awareness of a Pacific Northwest bioregional community. By drawing attention to an overlooked (or in this case, rarely seen) rodent - not megafauna - Winson emphasises the value and diversity of home, and domesticates the backyard in native terms. Mountain beaver accentuates the uniqueness, makes home simultaneously familiar and atypical. Winson's focus on how introduced species' disrupt native species also illustrates tensions between imperialistic thinking and the transformative experiences shaped by adaptating in a new land. In 19.19, Wildwood begins a jotting with a universal account about the "migration of weeds" (19). He distinguishes weeds as plants that "grow voluntarily and unwanted where other plants are cultivated" (19). Birds, wind, and water move seeds, and "as if they studied deviltry, others devise more intricate attachment of hooks and barb to compel unwary travelers to take them along as excess baggage [...] Schemes and tricks innumerable to get fresh ground for their future growth" (19). He ponders the phenomenon of isolated plant colonies and then illustrates his point in a Pacific Northwest setting. He proposes that shifting rivers and glaciers "deposited seeds and plants in locations inexplicable save by their action. The arbutus, our greatly-prized madrona and fatsia, our carefully avoided devil's club, appear in isolated colonies that can be explained only on such a supposition" (19). Winson then narrows his localization further to a specific area: Bryas Island near Hope. Here he documents how the flood of 1894 removed the entire flora from the island, and that the river "was carrying not only devastation, but the seeds of reconstruction" (19): the Fraser River deposited seeds from the interior, which flourished in the new environment. But what stands out in this piece is Wildwood's sensitivity to the relations of human encroachment to plant migration: The pioneer, in the fodder and litter of his animals, in the impurities of his grains, carried into new districts more forces than he knew. He was followed everywhere by the weeds of his old home. For this reason the native Indians name the common plantain "The White Man's Foot"—by this plant they could "trail" him. [...] Man blames the ground for producing the weeds which he himself has spread broadcast. In his fence rows and ditch rows, his road sides and railroad banks he has allowed them refuge with a carelessness that is costly [punctuation sic]. (19) Thus, while Winson's writings domesticate the natural world, he is very much aware of the costs of literal domestication of nature, of imperial ecology. Furthermore, Winson's frequent laments of human nuisances shows his refusal to abnegate human responsibility. "Devil's Club," for instance, is a jotting that proffers a localized historical illustration of Crosby's "imperial ecology": the disruption of native plants from original habitats, imported domestic animals, and introduction of alien plants because of human encroachment. Winson's observations of native plants' ecologies, bird migrations, animal behaviours, and Native traditions serve as comparative models for the natural history of Skegby, England— much would seem familiar (migratory patterns, life-cycles, and eating habits)—but not necessarily identical paradigms, as behaviours and patterns are circumscribed by specific geographical and bioregional features and evolutionary adaptations not found anywhere else in the world. In "Devil's Club," Wildwood meditates on the bane of thorns and prickles and their various functions as protection against predators in arid climates and to retain moisture. A Pacific Northwest native plant, Devil's Club (Oplopanax horridus), Winson claims is an exception to other prickly plants, one that "raises its evil arms through the woods of the Coast" and is "the vilest lance in the woods" (6), and inhabits wet and isolated thickets, not arid habitats. He goes into detail about the plant's ecology and ornamental value to the forest, describes the berries as "a fiery torch in the dark shades, hanging long through the winter" (6). He recalls how clearing land for grazing and farming opened the plant to predation by cows (the deer were the plant's primary consumers) and expanded the plant's range. Winson's piece demonstrates how introduced species (humans, cattle, sheep) relocate and expand not just alien species but also extend "invasive" native plants' territories. Plants normally held in check by other keystone species within their original habitats suddenly have the opportunity to proliferate in areas where competition and predation are not as pervasive, upsetting ecological relationships and endangering the existence of other species. What results is not a loss of harmonious balance in nature—nature adapts and, in some cases, thrives on flux—but a threat to the necessary biodiversity that sustains healthy and complex ecosystems. Winson's discussions of native and introduced species are indicators of his "climate"; much of his authority is based on the popular beliefs and the limitations of his culture and the science of his time. He incorporates in his writing Pacific Northwest aboriginal place names or Chinook jargon alongside the re-placed English names—actions that can be read as hybridizing the region. Because his writing demonstrates both a respect for and a desire to learn from Indigenous interactions with the natural world, Winson's hybridizing strategies are not entirely acts of negative acquisition. Nevertheless, his sympathy indicates a colonial eyewitness to dying or dead Indigenous cultures. Winson does not always acknowledge specific First Nations words in his writings; when he does mention St6:lo or Chinook terms, 54 such as showt'l, oolaloe or soopalallie, he often does not provide their English translation. Possibly, Winson does not translate the words because they are part of the common vocabulary of British Columbia immigrants during the nineteenth and first half of the twentieth century; he wants to expand the readers' taxonomic vocabulary; or, he is enacting an exoticization of the Native/native species.37 These strategies are products of a tension between his colonial heritage and his encounters in a new environment. Yet, typically his renderings of Native cultural practices do not express a shared or equal footing. He usually accompanies the Native name with a cultural and historical context, a gesture that positions the name and event in the past and endows it with a nostalgic and exotic sense of the other and of a time passed. One particular instance documented in Winson's fonds and published account demonstrates how, at times, Winson's conservation ethic clashes with his cultural sensitivity—an account made even more complicated by two publications that lament the vermin-like prolifitness of the seagull and agricultural damage caused by the bird. I encountered a photograph in Winson's fond, inscribed with a cryptic "Gull Guarding, 1932." I later found in "Memoirs of J.W. Winson," written by Ethel Winson, a brief note describing a month-long camping trip on Bare Island, one of the Southern Gulf Islands. The scene is anomalous because it recalls environmental/conservationist protests more common in the second half of the twentieth century. Ethel and John Winson were not pleasure camping but guarding gull eggs from local Salish and white "poachers." Ethel Winson describes the event as "not so interesting and a little dangerous as the Indians on neighbouring islands considered Bare Island as their property and privilege and conciliation was at first difficult" (12). In his 3 7 The proliferation of Chinook jargon during Winson's time and its perseverance in present cross-cultural Pacific Northwest discourse and borrowed Chu Naluth words such as 'chuck' (salt chuck), suggest that Chinook and Native languages mixing with colonial discourse is a strong possibility. See Charles Lillard and Terry Glavin's A Voice Great Within Us, and Fred Wah's Diamond Grill for various examples of how Chinook Jargon has been incorporated in PNW languages (Chinese and English, for instance). 1937 published account "Gulling Gulls," Winson makes no mention of the land dispute, but does note that the Salish traditionally harvested gull eggs from Bare Island as a food source. Winson privileges British Columbian legislated conservancy of "all birds which migrate" (12). He appends an anecdote (humour directed at the Anglo population, no doubt) about two game wardens who were marooned on a Gulf Island after catching "two white men" poaching eggs. Eleven days later, "a raiding Indian launch"(10) arrived. Rather than immediately approach the Indians for a ride back to the mainland, the wardens waited until the Salish gathered eggs (an "ancient hunt with baskets"), arrested them, and then made the Indians suffer further indignity by forcing them to deliver the wardens home. The inclusion of the anecdote rhetorically positions Winson as holding the higher moral and "civilized" ground. He defends his actions with legislation, and positions the "ancient hunt" as an antiquated tradition; his anecdote, though ridiculing the wardens' oversight and predicament, positions the Salish as both lawbreakers and dupes, thus socially inferior to their white counterparts, who though charged for poaching, are not cast demeaningly. Winson's writing promotes a community awareness of the Pacific Northwest bioregion through attention to the particular supported by general observation and knowledge, a dynamic community inclusive of plants, animals, rivers, winds, rains, snow, and sun. However, he often portrays an unmoving world: a world mapped within rigid political lines and closed Anglo-European social frameworks. He readily dismisses with unfavourable depictions First Nations' customs that clash with non-Native interests. Subsequently, the community that Winson strives to portray tends occasionally to be an exclusionary community comprised of Anglo-European settlers; however, it is a community imagining that he complicates with transformative moments, which create a regional identity rooted in interconnections with the natural world. Wildwood's jottings reveal much about the disharmonic racial and environmental relationships and shifts bound up in British Columbia's history, a discord that still, in 2007, frequently prevails between First Nations and non-Native peoples, and between environmentalists and developers. Yet, despite the problems associated with Wildwood's works, he does offer means to cultivating harmonious ways of living in the natural world: phenomenological (sense perception) and ontological (nature of being) models that illustrate ways of both sensing and being in the natural world. In an effort to recognize a more balanced and harmonious way of being a part of the natural world, sensory perception encourages readers to become aware of the natural world through tangible methods. M y reason for recuperating Winson's writings began with the notion of redux: to revive a writer forgotten, a naturalist lost to the British Columbian public awareness. I questioned whether his writings promote a bioregional community formation in the Pacific Northwest—or at least discover a semblance of such an identity. As my paper has progressed, I have realized that community formation was becoming secondary to the function of the naturalist account, and particularly to the importance of the dissemination of the naturalist account through the newsprint medium. I became more interested in why this particular genre had been displaced by environmental news and wanted to explore the importance of naturalist writing to community formation (and health). Health of a community (both human and non-human—they are inseparable) depends on the well-being of all inhabitants and surroundings. The first law of ecology: everything is connected to everything else. When nature writings such as John Winson's are dismissed purely on the basis of being "not news" (E. Winson Fonds 1), something has gone awry in the community. News measures the social, political, and economic climate of communities; newspapers (content, advertisements) project an idea of their social values. A preference for environmental crisis over naturalist meditations of mountain beavers, Nootka grass, and native bees indicates a community in disrepair and despair. Winson writes in "Earth-Healing," character in trees, temperament in flowers, microbes in soil, the very red earth of our .birth is known to be seething with minute organisms on whom all life depends. What these myriad hosts of bacterial life have or do for our good we can only guess. How they influence the air or charge the earth we are only enquiring. But we know the wild paths through grass or wood have a thrill and a tonic for us in spring that comes with the first touch of soft earth where the pavement ends. Mother earth has the cure for concrete ills. She has much to give and to tell, but we must walk out to gain it. (17-18) Despair needs to be offset by hope, no slight matter. Open-air jottings, being notes on nature, placed alongside environmental news return wonderment to the world, harmonious ways of building and contributing to the health of community. The concept of bioregion includes all living communities (human and non-human) and cultural practices within an area of shared biotic attributes. Winson's writing accentuates (and says much concerning) the global, national, provincial, and municipal influences on the environment during the first half of the twentieth century. He comments on conservation issues, alien species' effects on native species, the costs of progress, and the consequences of a gas-fuelled culture. Winson's writings, despite the inherent contradictions, are valuable for measuring the historical and cultural climate of his time and make evident Marston Bates' comment, "the climate of a particular place could thus be thought of as the average of its weather" (93). And the Pacific Northwest certainly gets its share of extreme weather. . 58 CHAPTER V Conclusion Antiphony: Weather We Be Antiphony: /1. Opposition of a sound; or harmony thereby produced 2. A musical response; a responsive musical utterance, the answer made by one voice or choir to another38 -W .H . New describes weather in Canadian literature as functioning "both as a condition of surviving in a Northern environment and as an active agent affecting individual lives" (1203). We listen to the weather. We also, as the saying goes, "keep a weather eye open." In Winson's nature writing the weather and climate of the Pacific Northwest rarely go unremarked. Either he focuses on a particular manifestation of weather or he mentions the general climate in passing. For instance, in a jotting that moves backward through the seasons and blooming of flowers and berries, Winson reflects at the beginning, "The lure of . the mountains challenges the romantic spirit of all who are influenced by that silent constancy of the massive peaks where every change of season and weather, fleeting and momentary, is sensitively recorded, but leaves immutable the jagged outlines of the everlasting hills" (1 Aug. 1919: 19). Winson does not merely report the climate. More often than not, his weathering seems a counterpart to the climate of the times. A musical accompaniment of winds and raindrops, Winson's syntactical arrangements and diction undulate in tempos both at odds and in tune with the cacophony of advertisements, cartoons, and hard news. Winson, in recording the literal climate of his surrounds inevitably reports, through contemporary environmental and ecological debate, the social and scientific climate 3 8 "Antiphony," Oxford English Dictionary Online. of his times. Winson's accounts of weather, as too his reports of native species, invasive species, rivers, and mountains, communicate a complex interrelation between the natural elements (mountain beaver, Devil's Club, Fraser Valley storm), human cultural values (land ethics, conservation, consumption), and the dissemination of the serial nature essay in newsprint. Winson's attempts to teach readers how to cultivate harmonious relationships with nature by focusing on local ecosystems document a shift in twentieth century environmental discourse. Winson's naturalist jottings when compared with current environmental news tell us where we are today in our relation to the environment: despite our advances in scientific knowledge and environmental awareness we still remain apart from nature and not a part of nature. Poets create new worlds or make old worlds new, whereas journalists record what has happened. The journalist, in other words, "selects from among things that already are: events that have in fact befallen, actions actually acted, objects seen, sounds heard; whereas the poet must spin his chronicle out of himself like a spider" (MacLeish 7 3 - 7 4 ) . Archibald MacLeish's observation suggests that both poetry and journalism attempt to replicate or recreate an "authentic" experience. Though the diction and structure of poetry and journalism diverge, the processes converge, and this becomes particularly evident in newspaper nature writing. Poets and journalists compose the climate in words and images that make vivid and immediate events such as the passing of a coastal glacier, logging in local watersheds, and the blossoming of Dogwood. Both journalist and poet record the everyday events and measure the dis/harmony of community ties. Through language, both poet and journalist attempt to orient readers' relations to particular events— to articulate and to make sense of an ever-changing community's climate. The lack of naturalist accounts much like Winson's and the strong emphasis on negative environmental news in current British Columbia dailies attests to an unbalanced community. Winson's writing, a combination of both poetry and journalism, presents a style of local feature writing that is missing in today's daily Canadian newspapers. Nature writing is a form of reporting, in much as reporting is a form of re-imagining an event: both genres strive to articulate and to make order out of sense and then make sense out of order. And, nature writing, as I have established in "Song Cycles," is a form of poetry—poetic prose—a protean genre that relies on poetic devices, particularly sensory imagery to convey a world in constant flux. As my readings of Winson's writing demonstrate, nature writing is amenable to poetic/linguistic analysis. Like poetry, nature writing attends to sensory experiences— experiences entrenched in our physical surroundings—makes tangible the importance of linguistic, cultural, social, ecological, and emotional relationships of communities. The genre teaches us how all things are interrelated, how life shifts both in and beyond the boundaries of print. Winson's conflation of poetics and natural science makes scientific study accessible through imagination, while his interjection of autobiographical elements further endows his encounters with a sense of intimacy and immediacy. As we sit at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, we stroll shoulder to shoulder with Winson along the Vedder River and hear— feel—the blue heron's grawk as it passes above us oh its way to Sumas Lake: We crouch down, dig our hands into and smell the loamy scent of overturned soil, and we pick and taste the bitter tang of the first spring shoots of dandelion leaves. In terms of reader response and identification, the reader becomes as much the persona imagined and invited by Wildwood, as does Winson. Winson's writing is a genre in which the subject is simultaneously author and subject: a subject that shares space with other subjects, subjects equally real and simulated. These subjects—Wildwood, Chehalis, salmonberry.—become the "we" of "weather we be." His pseudonym "Wildwood" sustains an illusion of fictional subjectivity, but his infrequent use of "I" maintains a sense of scientific objectivity through natural history that orients the reader in real events. The combined effect makes us companions along Wildwood trails; we are fellow travellers on interpretive nature walks around the shores of Hanging Lake and Sumas Lake. The intimacy of Wildwood's persona and subjectivity diminishes the distance produced by scientific objectivity. "Backyard ethnography" becomes backyard science. Sidonie Smith and Julia Watson describe "Backyard ethnography" as "the everyday practice of autobiographical narrating" (17). Winson's conflation of backyard ethnography and naturalist observations conveyed through newsprint further emphasizes my point that serial nature writing brings the "everyday practice" of the natural world into readers' living rooms and brings the readers out into their backyards. Consequently, the autobiographical elements of Winson's writing temper the didactic function of nature writing—nature writing should both entertain and teach—and illustrate reasons to care for our backyard, for our home. Canadian daily newspapers' inability to provide readers with serialized local nature features that both entertain and teach only serves to widen the gap between nature and culture. Either sensationalistic or delivered to us in fragments (weather networks, gardening columns, irregular nature features, travel sections), environmental news coverage in the media today rarely presents the reader with a sense of a whole picture. Readers rarely grasp, to borrow an ecological mapping, how all threads weave together to form multiple, interconnected webs that materialize into one, complex web: our planet. Current environmental news too often engenders fear and feelings of impotence or futility, conveys a sense of an erosive community. Vancouver Sun columnist, Stephen Hume occasionally writes nature features that combine poetic prose, autobiography, and awareness and education of environmental issues. Often he focuses on a particular, innocuous species, such as the mason bee, and champions its preservation, its beauty, and its natural history. But Hume diverges also into the realm of international politics and history. Thus, because of the infrequency of his nature articles and the unpredictability of his subject matter, I do not view his nature writing as sustaining the same empathic affect as Winson's writings. Stephen Hume is a new and needed voice, but what is still needed is a new Wildwood voice, one that regularly features the local within a bioregional ontology, a genre that acknowledges the complexity of existing as a part of bioregions and overlapping ecosystems: recognizes the interconnections between languages, cultures, sedges, arbutus, blackberry, oolaloe, flying squirrel, towhee, rivers, lakes, oceans, and January windstorms. Environmental journalism generally divides into two types: news and human interest. News focuses on "the unfamiliar, the strange, the huge, the surprising turn of events, the trouble spot, the crisis" (Killingsworth and Palmer 134). In contrast, the human-interest story involves "portraiture" of issues or. research affecting human lives (a neighbourhood composting initiative, for instance). Human-interest narratives, Killingsworth and Palmer contend, conflict with the objectivity of science as the stories generally promote "social value [...and] must solve human problems" (135). Dichotomizing environmental news into categories assumes a middle ground cannot exist. Science, Killingsworth and Palmer further note, rarely moves toward "melodramatic closures"; instead, science is a process of testing, retesting, and testing hypotheses. True, such developments do not make gripping news and make sustaining readers' interest a challenge (Killingsworth and Palmer 145). However, the two categories are not disparate; in fact, a solution to such a binary resides in the need for a literary genre that links environmental news and human interests: naturalist accounts. If a newspaper reports about melting icecaps and endangered polar bears, a natural history of polar bears tempers the hyperbole of crisis news and allows for other voices to penetrate the cacophony. The autobiography of the "backyard" ethno-naturalist account invites human , values to overlap and translate scientific abstraction into tangible, everyday practices. To borrow Christoph Irmscher's words, the human interest element found in Winson's style of naturalist writing "servefs] as the meeting point of two processes [...]: the humanization of nature and the naturalization of humanity" (100). Informing readers of only the negative impact of environmental degradation is reductive; newspapers must also educate readers about the home—the community—they are losing. Naturalist writings teach readers how to be attuned to nature, and thus discover ways of preventing that loss. Jan Zwicky, at the U B C conference Writing Home, claimed that people's unwillingness to care or act in the face of environmental degradation resulted from an inability to hear. I challenged this premise and noted that the problem is not people's inability to hear, but rather a condition of being deafened by so much negative news or static. Constant barrages about climate change, extinction, resource depletion, deforestation, tainted water supplies, and household toxins—I am not surprised when my Foundations Program students initially expressed a sense of futility generated by an overwhelming bombardment of environmental news. For a year, my students read works relevant to environmental studies: Descartes, Rousseau, Daniel Quinn, Rachel Carson, David Orr, Gary Paul Nabhan, and Laurie Ricou. The texts made the students variously upset, frustrated, cynical, intrigued, but rarely awed and rarely inspired to act. Yet, their attitude did change over the course of the year, and at different moments, I believe, they were moved to care. Hearing is not the same as listening. We hear noise, but we do not necessarily attend to the particularities of sound: the differentiation between a junco and towhee's song, between the scent of cedar and pine. The necessary quiet that Zwicky calls for cannot occur without first learning to care—to know what "it" is we are trying to hear. If you learn to care, you will seek out the quiet necessary to hear, to differentiate voices in our community. The Foundations 101 teaching team asked the students to choose a species native to the Pacific Northwest.39 One of the main impetuses of the project was to re-vision home (the local) through the reading of purple shore crab, sea otter, Pacific tree frog, and Northwest crow, as some examples. Learning about the species' ecology, the history (human and natural), and cultural representations, students had to reconsider their own relationship to their particular species and by extension their own engagement with the environment. Laurie Ricou's The Arbutus /Madrone Files inspired the assignment, and I took the opportunity to model the compilation of the files on Laurie Ricou's Majors Seminar on Invader Species. Throughout the year, the species were to become the students' companion—their obsession. They viewed the species from various disciplinary perspectives: science, culture, history, fiction/poetry, natural history, and fine arts. Further, students had to look at these disciplinary perspectives through a local lens; students had to find articles and artefacts pertaining to the Pacific Northwest. Each week students shared their findings with their classmates, so that by the end of the year they had compiled a file. As their files grew, so too did their interest; the pedagogical exercise became a lesson in learning about how species interact with their environment and how the environment interacts with species. What I saw evolve were words characteristically associated to friends (sense of fun, creative, timid) were applied to their species: favoured stories tended to focus on qualities that made their species (and rivers) 3 9 The U B C Faculty of Arts Foundations Program was a first-year interdisciplinary program that combined the Arts and Social Sciences. The program, comprised of approximately 120 students and divided into three sections, was team-taught by three Instructors and three Teaching Assistants each. I was a Teaching Assistant for Section 101, an interdisciplinary introduction to nature/culture, literature and environmental studies, and sustainability. The three Instructors were Dr. Rebecca Raglon (English/Environmental Studies), Dr. Carla Paterson (History/History of Science), and Dr. Larissa Petrillo (Anthropology/Aboriginal Studies). The advantage of this program was that we had the same students for the entire year. Unfortunately, in 2006 the Faculty of Arts ended the program. "human." Despite long teeth, poisonous bites, or slimy textures, their companions became approachable—dare I say, loveable (Brent went as far to bring his companion (live) to class: a Dungeness crab). Encounters with their species became enmeshed with stories of their family or friends (grandmother's quilting, friends kayaking, and a community crab-bake)— stories that placed them, that connected them to home. Then, to give them something tangible, I took them on a natural history treasure hunt around the Museum of Anthropology and down to Wreck Beach. I gave them sets of envelopes. One envelope contained clues, the other answers. With a series of facts, myth, and descriptions, they had to locate the species. As they found each species, they would read aloud more information about the species. At one point, I overturned a rock on the beach, and scooped up a purple shore crab. Many of the students had never held or touched a live crab: its diminutive size and defensive posture as it rested in my palm brought first silence, then a sudden rush of questions and observations. They touched, they smelled, and they listened. And, as their final projects showed, they learned to care. Winson's writings teach readers the importance of listening not through unrelenting toxic discourse, but through sensing the wonders of the diverse lives growing in our backyards. He repeatedly emphasizes interconnections-—"friendships" as Winson calls them—between the human and nonhuman as the foundations of community and existence. Environmental news shows us the consequences of collapsed ecological communities; naturalist accounts show us how to prevent such a collapse: being attuned with all senses. Naturalist accounts respond to environmental crisis: they are the antiphony of environmental news. Naturalist writing does not shirk conservationist and preservationist issues, rather the opposite. Naturalist writing is about incremental steps, documenting slow progressions and overlooked efforts. Environmental news focuses on mercurial changes and natural disasters because of their newsworthy (product) appeal as journalistic commodity: naturalist accounts focus on the slow, significant changes and the background hum, which normally lead up to and accompany natural disasters. Rather than project alarmist rhetoric, naturalists attempt to retain the beauty and the wonderment, to emphasize the aspects of nature that show us why particular species are worth saving. Winson endows the natural world with human traits, but he does so not to encourage a homogeneity, but to figure the human as a part of a biodiverse world; he appeals for a "wider vision," to see "creatures in their own concerns." In imagining such possibilities, he projects a human identification, a kindred feeling with the biotic community in attempts to change people's conscience about their surround. By evoking the physicality of an earthworm retreating deeper from the freezing soil or the warning slap of a beaver's tail, he projects the reader into sensing another equally complex way of being in nature. I want to conclude with an excerpt by Winson, an Open Air Jotting that I feel embodies Wildwood's visionary perspective and emphasizes the importance of retrieving his writings. Though his writings are often problematic, Winson imagines a Pacific Northwest regional community grounded in the natural world, and articulates an ethic toward the land and biotic community that decentres humans and forces them to share both the printed page and the world beyond the text: Owning the Earth This is man's pride. The boast of his advancement is that he comes more and more into his "heritage" as the lord of creation. The universe is brought under his "service," he regards himself as owner and controller of the world on which he drifts. The land, the forests, the air, the sea, all are "conquered." Whatever life he meets he destroys or subdues to his will , and all forces inanimate are "harnessed" to his purpose. His first audacity was to hang the sun and the stars on the firmament for his own lightning, before discovering that suns and constellations swung in distances eternal, and in serenity ineffable; from whence his earth is less than a mote in a sunbeam, and himself less than a microbe on a mote. [...] Light from universes that ignore him power to view their might, and to measure their immensity. They have shown him centuries of light, ages of systems, journeyings beyond his ken or his imagining, leaving.him with the vast amaze of comprehending the unbounded. He sees that all are moving, that he is moving too. His solid earth spins on itself, making night and day, turns on its sun for seasons of growth and rest; follows that sun he knows not whither, haunted by a hint that all are speeding along a milky way that has no turning, no ending. Cosmic forces drawing him through galaxies of suns at speed he can not sense, to a goal he can not gauge, while he fumbles at the wheel of a spark of oil and gloats that he owns the earth [punctuation and spelling sic]. (8-9) Winson wrote this particular jotting in 1934. In 1956, the new editor of the Vancouver Daily Province cancelled "Open Air Jottings," because, as Ethel Leaf tells us, he thought Wildwood's jottings "were not news." In her anger, Ethel underlines not and writes over News with capital letters, scratches it out and handwrites again in bold capitals: NEWS! (J.W. Winson Memoir). John William Winson—Wildwood—and naturalist writings much like his, impress upon us that what elicits care for the natural world is not so much accentuating that which is newsworthy, but balancing such of-the-moment coverage with that which noteworthy. 69 Bibliography "Animals of the World—Arise!" Cartoon. The Vancouver Daily Province. 28 March 1950:4. Bates, Marston. The Nature of Natural History. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1990. Blaser, Robin. "Robin Blaser, The Moth Poem." from "Statements of the Poets" in The Long Poem Anthology. Ed. Michael Ondaatje. Toronto: Coach House, 1979. 32.3-25. Botkin, Daniel B . Discordant Harmonies, A New Ecology for the Twenty-First Century. Toronto: Oxford UP, 1990. Bringhurst, Robert. "Poetry and Thinking." Thinking and Singing: Poetry and the Practice of Philosophy. Ed. Tim Lilburn. Toronto: Cormorant, 2002. 155-172. Brink, Bert. Interview. Vancouver, British Columbia. 29 April 2006. Bullivant, Roger. "Harmony." The New Oxford Companion to Music. Ed. 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National Wildlife Online. 40.4 (2002): np. 27 Oct. 2006 >http://www.nwf.org/nationalwildlife/article.cfm?articleld=500& issueld=43<. Drouin, Jean-Marc and Bernadette Bensaude-Vincent. "Nature for the People." Cultures of Natural History. Eds. N . Jardine, J. A. Secord, and E. C. Spary. New York: U of Cambridge P, 1996. 408-425. . Fetterly, Judith and Marjorie Pryse. Writing out of Place: Regionalism, Women, and American Literary Culture. Urbana: U of Illinois UP, 2003. Finch, Robert. "Landscape, People and Place." dialogue between Robert Finch and Terry Tempest Williams in Writing Natural History: Dialogues with Authors. Ed. Edward Lueders. Salt Lake City: U of Utah P, 1989. 39-65. Foltz, Bruce V. "Nature's Other Side: The Demise of Nature and the Phenomenology of Givenness." Rethinking Nature: Essays in Environmental Philosophy. Eds. Foltz, B .V. and Robert Frodeman. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 2004. 330-341. Fritzell, Peter A. Nature Writing and America. Ames: Iowa.State UP, 1990. 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Killingsworth, M . Jimmie and Jacqueline S. Palmer. Ecospeak: Rhetoric and Environmental Politics in America. Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP, 1992. Kroetsch, Robert. "Canada is a Poem." Divided We.Stand. Ed. Gary Geddes. Toronto: Martin, 1977. —. "Unhiding the Hidden: Recent Canadian Fiction." Journal of Canadian Fiction 3.3 (1974): 43-45. Leeson, Ted. The Habit of Rivers: Reflections on Trout Streams and Fly Fishing. New York: Lyons, 1994. Lueders, Edward, ed. Writing Natural History: Dialogues with Authors. Salt Lake City: U of Utah P, 1989. MacLeish, Archibald. "The Poet and the Press." Languages of the Mass Media: Readings in Analysis. Eds. Irving Deer and Harriet Deer. Boston: D. C. Heath, 1965. 72-85. McKay, Don. McKay, Don. Vis a Vis: Field Notes on Poetry and Wilderness. 72 Wolfville: Gaspereau. 2001. New, W. H. "Weather." Encyclopedia of Literature in Canada. Ed. W. H . New. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 2002. 1203. Orrey, Leslie. "Song-Cycle." The New Oxford Companion to Music. Ed. Denis Arnold. 2 vols. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1984. 1720-1721. Oxford English Dictionary Online. 2006. 10 July 2006 >http://www.oed.com/<. Pinsky, Robert. "Newspaper." The American Poetry Review Online 31.3 (2002). 3 June 2006 >http://www.aprweb.org/issues/may02/pinsky.html< . Pratt, Mary Louise. Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation. N Y : Routledge, 1992. Raglon, Rebecca. "Little Goody Two-Shoes: Reassessing the Work of Catherine Parr Traill." This Elusive Land: Women and the Canadian Environment. Eds. Melody Hessing, Rebecca Raglon, and Catriona Sandilands. Vancouver: U B C P, 2005. 4-18. Reah, Danuta. The Language of Newspapers. N Y : Routledge, 1998. Ricou, Laurie. The Arbutus /Madrone Files: Reading the Pacific Northwest. Edmonton: NeWest, 2002. —. "The Pacific Northwest as a Cross-Border Region." Updating the Literary West. Western Literature Association. Fort Worth: Texas Christian UP, 1997. 262-267. Sabloff, Annabelle. Reordering the Natural World: Humans and Animals in the City. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 2001. Schmidt, Brenda. "Words to Another Forest Song." Urban Coyote: New Territory. Eds. Michele Genest, Dianne Homan and Jenny Charchun. Whitehbrse: Loose Moose, 2003. 75-76. 73 Smith, Sidonie and Julia Watson. "Introduction." Getting a Life: Everyday Uses of Autobiography. Eds. Sidonie Smith and Julia Watson. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1996. 1-24. Snide, Alvin. "Nature Essay." Encyclopedia of the Essay. Ed. Tracy Chevalier. Chicago: Fitzroy, 1997. 593-594. Taylor, Terry. Vancouver Natural History Society Interpretive Nature Hike. Sasamat Lake, British Columbia. May 2006. Thoreau, Henry David. Walden and Other Writings. Ed. Joseph Wood Krutch. Toronto: Bantam, 1981. Clarke, J.J., ed. Voices of the Earth: An Anthology of Ideas and Arguments. N Y : Braziller, 1994. University of British Columbia, University Archives. John William Winson (Wildwood), 1912-1967, Box 1. Vancouver, British Columbia. White, Gilbert. The Natural History ofSelborne. New York: Dutton, 1949. Winson, Ethel Leaf. "From Small Beginnings." University of British Columbia, University Archives. John William Winson (Wildwood), 1912-1967, Box 1, Writings. Vancouver, British Columbia. —. "Memoir of J.W. Winson." University of British Columbia, University Archives, John William Winson (Wildwood), 1912-1967, Box 1, Writings. Vancouver, BC . Winson, John William. "Along Wildwood Trails." The Vancouver Daily Province. 21 March 1950: 4. —. "Along Wildwood Trails." The Vancouver Daily Province. 28 March 1950: 4. —. "The Border Has No Width." B.C. Magazine. The Vancouver Daily Province. 1956: 74 6. "Chehalis." Wildwood Trails in British Columbia. Vancouver: Chapman, 1946. 192-193. "Earth-Healing." Wildwood Trails. Vancouver: Chapman, 1946. 16-18. " A Flood of Wind." The Vancouver Daily Province. 2 February 1930: 6. "The Fraser at Sea." Wildwood Trails. Vancouver: Chapman, 1946. 136-138: "Gulling Gulls." Open Air Jottings: Being Notes on Nature between the Mountains and the Sea in British Columbia. Vancouver: Murphy, 1937. 9-10. "The Happy Frog." Open Air Jottings. Vancouver: Murphy, 1944. 9-10. "Hermits." Open Air Jottings. Vancouver: Murphy, 1929. 5-7. Letter to J. Eastham. University of British Columbia, University Archives, J.W. Winson (Wildwood), Box 1, Correspondence Nov. 19, 1930. Vancouver, B C "Mount Baker, the Witholder." Open Air Jottings. Vancouver: Murphy, 1931. 11. "Open-Air Jottings." The Vancouver Daily Province. 24 August 1918: 17. "Open-Air Jottings." The Vancouver Daily Province. 1 August 1919: 19. "Open-Air Jottings." The Vancouver Daily Province. 5 Sept. 1919: 19. "Open-Air Jottings." The Vancouver Daily Province. 10 Oct. 1919: 2. "Open-Air Jottings." The Vancouver Daily Province. 17 Jan. 1920: 16. "Owning the Earth." Open Air Jottings. Vancouver: Murphy, 1934. 8-9. "The Right Direction." The Vancouver Daily Province. 22 Jan. 1940: 4. " A River of Time." Open Air Jottings. Vancouver: Murphy, 1936. 23-25. "Sedges." Weather and Wings. Toronto: Nelson, 1932. 37-39. 75 "The Turning Worm." The Vancouver Daily Province. 18 Feb. 1925: 6. "Unknown Harmonies." Wildwood Trails. Vancouver: Chapman, 1946. 134-136. The Voice of the Earth." Wildwood Trails. Vancouver: Chapman, 1946. 15-16. Weather and Wings. Toronto: Nelson, 1932. "Woo, Woo, Woo." The Vancouver Daily Province. 23 Feb. 1925: 6. Appendix Facsimiles of Wildwood's (J.W. Winson) nature column in The Daily Province Fig. 1 "Open-Air Jottings." The Daily Province. 2 January 1920: 12. Fig. 2 "The Wild Arum." The Daily Province. 22 November 1939: 4. Fig. 3 "Along Wildwood Trails." The Daily Province. 14 March 1950: 4. Fig. 4 "Open-Air Jottings." The Daily Province. 20 October 1918: 9. Fig. 5 "Open-Air Jottings: Mud and Migration." The Daily Province. 12 Feb. 1925: 6. Fig. 6 "Open-Air Jottings." The Daily Province. 23 January 1920: 12. Fig. 7 "Open-Air Jottings." The Daily Province. 12 August 1923: 20. Fig. 8 "Open-Air Jottings." The Daily Province. 12 September 1919: 15. Fig. 9 "Along Wildwood Trails." The Daily Province. 28 March 1950: 4. O P E N - A I R J O T T I N G S • By W I L D W O O D -NT-, amount et m*1** I v w. toward. •*»»«« Z^rtLaoi^ «oB»lt*K>*. f*^:, , t confident for « ^ < ^ , » r a « t ^ v ^ then an our ar-id sweats as ™e * n c l ° JS- -a*. March k. »^2» w that of tk-hmmm un wc. — he etmllartr adorned, as Illusion that • naarar altoroeeb dbrpeQa, tar than It I* that tha mapl. la aanrytag thai key* at tha past, and tha haaal thai outhtte of fha aaaaoa to coma. Tha proaeUer-btadad seeds of tha i vtaemapie would have flown down weeks) ago had not tha early! (root kQlad tha tmls stalk hafora tha dis-oonneetlns; Mayan at tha Joint war* inarand. How they must stay until the brrttlasaaa of. decay allows thorn to caap to a winter blow. Whlla they nung iw&itlng for tha signal to fir. tha lambstajls apaa out their pendu-lous length* from tha little bad at tha lata leaf-Joint Bafdra.aax.ef Its' ants that, eseap-sonlml* Jar and nutcracker. Ue den, under tha haves, hava' begun to potion for sprouting, tha haul ta making raadr for next rear's crop. I o. w. v. A. m« At what point, therefor., shall-the J 1 *?* »» eubmit to tha ratepart ire-lover close bis termT Wb« ? ' ;L"J? , y l l " n f the' turning Itbe said. "Her. tba season enda. S.*?• .TTwiSSS!' Oov,"»"«»« «>e ; - — 1 wtetaiia street on whlcl t^ransformed .rubs •™*rJ~Llf Saa, It waa noted W tha experts eJtae of the falinraa waa sought, and g^Jicev^Sad. ttat tha m » « had aMrasttal Another ttr «o»2T2S tick and left there ivantually hatched and brought on Its host's destruction. Perhaps this Utile fellow ta the otw w ' » dow^ the wimbcre at_«ur thi only war to arrest a thief H to J* iotharttlef upon hint. ***** whan does tha plan do better work JSSlminV the Insect thieves et ear Arnold & Q .January Clearance Sat y| DRASTIC clearance of all lines of Men's Winter Clothe, price concessions that can not fail to interest every m\ save on everything—many lines are marked at less than v them—the values are unusually good—get your share. , X apple ma*** of tha A^"^ alda had no such worrr upon V~ back. OnSe inside the «P'«* '« danger lay In the fruit belnf "sTtbes. Uttl. four-wtojjd We*| vhosa exlatenoe was possible only i hy^.lr eating to death the app£ marauder, were collected In number. SdlEn"to the troubled orchard, of the Beat. Liberated there, their *ne great object would be toiflnd MM prey, and on their success hangs that of the orchardlst. Rmoopsaw.v.A., ~ TO HAVE NEW CLUB O. W. V. A . the CltJ• CounjUIhasjtm-• • .- ratepayers a r ,n,.™.... ... turning orer to the PTorlnclaroorernBient :Jir» tlnau coats that are made. . $49 .7 O Values up to $15.00. for ' " $25 and $30 Heavy $ 1 5 . 0 0 Twted Raincoats • • " It o«a7»>. • - , . shown on shrub and tree, while stands, oej ue con<j,uu„ „.„ „ moss Is creeping,. brightly green on ernment deeds the building and fou'to bark that la damp, on logs of. decay. Kaniloops Q, w. v. A . for the LOT-Not while lichens are painting fence S?f»°£ * Returned BoldlenC Club and and branch with disks of grey and is '^."„TC'° u ) " "» drab! Knowing, too, that should he if this property the war *et scratch through the blackening leaf arana Intend expending about isiojln mould he would bare glVte spurs of remodelling the buuding to fit It for smllsclna and discover sprouting c \ u b Purpooe^  and will make of the trimum roota and the Ivory tusks of ,truc""o a Kamloopa war memorial ' . « # Oaaa &ebeUed by OnTtty Harvest was "on'g ago garnered b, eaS'nSSS'I Sifl&ttS?,km ifi animal and insect, but the birds previous bait machines as one of ox--neither reap nor garner Into barns." il"m!_"LT".'^ 11/- a«»rtlng from a re-Fur them still hang seed, fruit and Sined u£* •otJ!Si?J,5J^ " d °" n " ">-barrr. and from the crlmaon glow- tr.V'.f^e.^'Xd"^-"*^" °t». that covers the shrubs about the label stack. plr<-<— i i n tn.ir wladlng croeV there an berries yet K?*™1*.^ ?"* ruddy S'trLdi1"?; $30 and $35 Heavy Tweed Raincoats for and slip-on styles: greys, browns aoue •^^\nl7,rvaluest.r $15.00 100 Men's Odd-Sults $ 2 1 . 7 5 toie cleared at . SL>e. .4 to 40 only Tweed, and Worstoda B« ; ular values In this lot as high as MO."". unrestricted . JJ. X I , / O choice at $45 to $60 Young Men's $ 3 4 . 7 5 Suits to clear • $35.00 to $40.00 Young $ 2 8 . 7 5 Men's Suits, to clear . . $ 2 1 . 7 5 B T J S - #sttvs^£.t%zj~ '"" - remarkable. Odd Overcoats; regular $ J 5 . 0 0 jup to $30 . . . • — for many day*. Them in the ru dy hip* of wild rosea, in polished bril-liance ruby blight, oow the most handsome Jewels In wood ud mea-dow. Their beauty does not appeal to ti» birds very much, tor there are many other kinds they will take in preference. The outlets tnafds the red shell are hairy and Irritating, but the" cases wftrt made by our forefathers Into "pleasant meat* and tart-like dishes'* that must have looked better than Blw„. over' the ilcklns up » l»»el ta their The cans then pass under, a Jsn ot breslSs/thos firmly afBsiat 7rr;irL\a. Theraachlne will work at ifttaM s irS? be»ng llmludI only hy the mte at which operatives can place cans on the Inclined shelf. Emphatic Reductions on Men's Blue Serge Suits $15.00 R « » I « $ 5 O B I U . $ 3 9 . 7 5 Serges'at — t> Men-. Odd overcoat*. In various styles and fabrics. Values up to 130.00, for ^ w - s i * . $ 2 6 . 7 5 g ^ . B t o . . . $ 4 9 ' 7 S Men's Overcoats ~. . ^ — I FREE TO P i l e S u f f e r e r s k„t cememned by us, we are apt w f Regular445 and $50-^  $ 3 4 . 7 $ Men's Overcoats . . . : . . ™ v : t ^ ^ t - ^ S ^ j - SiIcT 'ftelr Let Me Prove Thii Free My internal method. 'or tba treat' Regular $55 and $60 $ 3 8 . 7 5 Men's Overcoats ^ Underwear Bargains $18.00 to $25.00 MACKINAWS $ 1 2 . 7 5 Your unrestricted choice of any in the house tomorrow; tCI O 7 f t te. $18 to $25 values ... frl^./O SS. \ t£& '^^'ZZIL?, m«l »rparm.n«« ri.ef of p.l- « dTaw upuon aa now. Those -spacious m Tbooa.no. upon thou-Jlrf-^ fore tomato and tea. potato 2Sd?T*f arateful latter. ta«lfy to infd o^uTfr^ irhad not tha width fiu^ and « wlnt you to try tbu. m«h-"our owtL and thereon hlps.^ nd od at n£ ««Pen£ J 0 a r ^ * * tren ha»s war. welcomed to -vary N^o «J^'d«nfwnr rZ.m dw.l^ mant. the .tmpler^ dlet. Son,. ^ J ^ ^ p T o S e r . ^ i wait yTu to realise that my method Sfung Plea Is ths one mo.t do. fitment. o matter wncmir wvw — — -r ion* staadlag or recent «^«»0?m«^ whetherlt Is chronic or acute,^ wjiether «. i« Mcaalonal or permanent, you LhtrSd^ SS foT this ire. trui tr«t _.lt— where you live—no matter 'Sou^ elTiT 7»ocot«>l"0-'' Jon 7_vr_^ ™i.v nit ant. mi method will a. a rule to "ouciin tajeburtej r , r p . ? d ^ ^ . ^ a ™ • r - -$ 1 , 4 5 Odd and broken lines of Watson's and Penman's; values £ 1 f\t\ to $2J0 for «P 1 t U U $2.00 Penman Natural Wool Elastic Rib Up to »3.00 values la Britannia, Pen man's blue tip, heavy Scotch and Stanfield's heavy A «| pd rib «P1 .DO $2.50 Stanfield and Turnbull natural wool and heavy rib $ J 9 5 anrl Ticer January Salfi[Pr You'll Stock/Up M. t o ss.OO values IB odd tinea of Si is". Shirt* it. it* only.... Up to 12.00 values In Laundnred Cuff Shirts Up to IJ.00 valuea In Soft Cuft Shirts • IS 60 values In Soft Cult Camhrlo Bhlrta ' underwe r 8 9 c $1.29 $1.45 Casnbrlo Sblrta . $1 .89 UpLto l^ TsO vsJnea In Lauxidered Cuff Shirts, makes • sPausXv T I G . i are »Iiown on unw •• ^TSwln* . DrlghUy P""" berk that ta imp. on ">«» o*/*^, white Uehena »™ p»lntln» MC. indtranen with diak. of drab? Knowing, too. that should he Xch through tb, b^ enlnir leaf SnSS^o." and th. Ivory tuek. of axQmt S t i S ? a t t V T « l|gJSnffJSw"^»«> » tO»W I $35.oito $40.00 Young gV ^ V ^ W M . X . ^ l ' ~~7~~T s,,.ts. to clear T^Oe^ huTprcperty th. w a r — - * « «•*•» — "« remodeling th. buMles to fit It for club purposes, and will man. of u>e struclur. a Kamlod club purpooea. |$30 nnd $35 HeavyTweed Raincoats for dpa war memorial r Hirnst n i lonr ago garnered by animal and Insect, but the birds "neither reap nor garner into barns." For them still bans seed, fruit and berry, and from the crimson glow! that coTers the shrub* about the I wfaainj creek' there are berries yet , for many days. These an the ruddy hips of wild rosea. In polished brtl-li&Bce ruby bright, now the most1 handsome Jewels la wood and mea-dow Tbeir beauty does not appeal to the birds very much, for there are many other kinds they will take la nnftrenee. The outlets inside the red shell are baby and Irritating;, but the* cases vera made by our forefathers Into "pleasant meats, and tart-like dishes" that must have looked better than , tiiry tasted, unless they bad, ways of softening them. When we read of the wild fruits and plants eaten by our ancestors, but contemned by us, we are apt to forget their limited choice. Their solden argosies were lacking tn cold Somre, their gardeners had not the D proved fruits of. the wide world to draw upnon as now. Those "spacious dAj-t" before tomato and tea, potato and citrous fruits had not the width of our own, and therefore hips and eren have were welcomed to vary ' Cans &abaUea by wrevtty. The ararlty labeling derlee for tin cansjnakes a wide departure from all previous belt machines as one.of ox> treme simplicity. Starting from a ro-o*lvlng shelf, the cans roll down en in-clined track, passing first over an open tray of adhesive and then over the label stack-picking up a label in their proayeas. _' The K sr . xne ou nien pass tt55?f * tteryof brushes, thus Brm y affixing the libels. Themnchlne will work at lVbtnlng speed, being limited only by the"rateVwWch operatives can place cans on the inclined shelf. $21.75 g . J J J - -s--«as-it«a -• remarkable. Odd Overcoats; regular <fc 15.00 up to $30 ^ _ _ 61 M.o'a Odd Overcoats, In fabrics. Value. op to IJ0.O0, tor — various styles and $15.00 Regular $35 and $40 $26.75 Men's Overcoats . v Emphatic Reductions on Men's Blue Serge Suits Genuine Indigo Dyed Pur. Wool Walt of England ' Navy Blue Bars. Suits, hand.talored throughout. Regular $50 Blue & Q Q 7 IS Serges'at « P O » 7 o I D Regular $60 Blue Serges at*. $49,75 the slmpleTydlet. FREE TO P i l e S u f f e r e r s rvm-t Be Out—Vvm To. Try TU» »rw Bin. Cor. That Anyone CanJOf. mini ™*~**0I%£jZ!!\ °' •imply Ch.w Op a K«»^,,,*H~a* Oec.r1oil.ny ana Bid Tour-Mii fit rat*. Let He Prove Thii Free My Internal method for me treat, matt and permanent relief of pile, la ike unmet one. Thousand, upon then. —ZSS&t grateful Lttera testify to XEjVad'lVXSi yon to try tbla matb-"Vo' SI,T.rwb.thV your case to of long .tending or recent der.lopm.nt, wbrtherlt I. chronic or acute, whether Regular445 and $50 $34.75 Men's Overcoats . . . : . ™ • Regular $55 and $60 $38.75 Men's Overcoats $18.00 to $25.00 MACKINAWS $12.75 Your unrestricted choice o£ any mackinaw in the house tomorrow; f j»1*} 7 * % i e g . $18to $25 values . . . V * * " ' 0 Some hang; tn pe.dulent clusters, lovely as coral card rope, other. In -single uprightness of wider girth and ruddier color, with bare and there one bleached by th. front. Content IM a rule to thicken Into buahea,-j where tneae have encountered a , clump of dog-wood or crab they have j«rur«led with th. young- tree, tor jUie ripper light, taking- «n a eeml-eWnblni- habit to avoid smothering, oow giving th. tall ahrnbs a eurloug I appearance of red fraltedneam. a. I of nkt low ato the -the kta dr,. The red of th. roe* to rehe»ed tn dry place, by th. waury whteneca of 'he •Dewberry. Th* wtrT-aternmed 'hrnba are usualy known under this name, but aa a trailing evenrreon up •Q ih« Rockies to thouarht to hay. ih. tin claim -on It. particularly as if bouuieal nam. to th. Greek far snow fmu. wfi ti9 naked to call our commea romdafd. plant the MX. berry. Certain ly UI» (Jaaay, wtohubu> fruit 's more im. wu than snow m ap-oearanee. Thoy Ought to be rood to eat, but are not, having qualities ( 'llrhtry poiaooouu to mas tf not to M hlrda. I Beyond admlrinc the pretty white rluatere ef berrlaa In winter and. If *. have eye. to notloe them, their preruer flower. In early auuimer, little wuen belto, Muahlac pink and rooa, thla shrub has little Internet for the traveler, and lag* tor th. hua-- — n«t ., necaalonal or permanent, you iouW S^d for tbl. Iii, trial tr«t "NO mater where you "ve-no mater whit your age or occupation—If you troubled with plee. my method will "Y'«pi^ llyrw.nVt .end It to tboa. .nJrenUy hopeleae am where all JJ&a*orol«menta, •»<»•*,•••• o"1" l^ il application, have failed. Meant you to realeo that my method of treating plea la the one moat de. ^J'Sb^offer-of frw. tre-rjea. to tocTtaporUnt for yon to negUKt J •uialeday. write now. Bend no money BrnfoU mail the coupon—tut do tbla Underwear Bargains Odd and broken lines of Watson's and Penman's; values <1»1 A A to $2.50 for «J> 1 . U U $100 Penman Natural (]» f A ( J Wool Elastic Rib «J> 1 . . ID Up to $3.00 values in Britannia, Pen-man's blue tip, heavy Scotch -and Stanf ield's heavy * ^ : '~' rib 9&!&L $2.50 Sunfield and Tarabntl?!^ wool and heavy rib *t T "Ci'' underwear t p l e « / v $3.00 Stanfield, Watson and Tiger Brand natural wool and heavy ribbed all-wool underwear $2 45 January Sal?IPri You 11 Stock fUp 50 Dozen Stanfield silk and wool and silk and linen underwear: reg. $5DO value everywhere. JANUARY tCO 9 5 CLEARANCE •P.&. i?** W F F I G S " d L D ' s i p r a E l the traveler, and leg* for t . u«-1 D (.an^ n^. Thl. la becauee we do not . , ^ f0Qgat\ RemOTe reaHze .niporU^ « » ^ Stomach, Brltnh Corambla ban mor. lweet peeta than ar. wanUd, j ™ grower, think our proportion la vtr , too reneroua, but there to always OB. I omlaslon for which w. are frateiui-— |th. apple maexot ^ W l , L , S L 5 0 i I The p<w of the Ea»t waa not known • In th. West ' But three enmroeT. a*o, a roreTn-meni entomeiogtot, -avreeplng" huah and graae with hta net fQT whatever might bap. received on. of »• «T0at rerprUe. of his existence when two •>» these nice were dicoverod In his catch. No orchard. In the district were sufering from th. dread Intmrnton. noo. In the province. ft***3£?,i* then made certain of tBa £* i rau« find the fruH e^  which th» ; ina(got thrived. Thl» h« round >ner i search to be the •"an^ yroitW^W*1 1 tain of the berries haobturned Brown and these were foundVto grub. Her, then waa • rorolaMonl• Th. Plague of the Eastern ttrjltojrdg waj U-er and Bowel*. Up to $4.00 values in Penman's natural woo^combina. fl»ty Q A tions. Also crram.... V a W e O J / Stanfield medium - weight natural wool combinations $3 4 5 | $5.00 Tom bull, Watson and Stan-field natural wool < C Q Q t % combinations ' . y O t i / U $6.00 Stanfield and Turnbnll natural wool combinations $4 85 i $8.00 Watson and Stanfield natural, wool combinations $6 75 Up to 11.00 values In odd lines of Q A Big Men's Bhlrta. 11, 17 H only Os7C Up to 12.00 values la LAuncftred £> •% ne% Cuff Bhlrta «P1 .a*ie7 Up to »J.O0 value, tn Soft A . I H Cult Shirts «P 1 e*tO 11.60 values In Soft Cuff d»< Q A Cambrlo Shirts «p X .OS/ Up! to IO0 values In Laundered Cuff Shirts, makes - ePsWe X O GREAT SOCK V A t U E S 100 Dosen Black and Colored Cashmere Finish TplS. $1.00 60 Dosen Penman's Heavy Qrey A'f A A Ribbed wool Books, S pair...... .]> l eU*J SOo Heavy Blank English Csah- d> . A g mere Plnlah Bocka, t pair »P X .afsaJ 7Co Heavy Blaek English Caah- 9ti mere Bocka, S pair ap X .aMV SOo Penman's Heavy Qrey Bibbed £ 1- Ol% Wool Socks, S pair . . «p X es t iO . Sl.oo valnea In English Heather and' Black Ribbed Pure Wool Bocka, f?/V S pair eJjaS.eJVJ Heavy Pur. Wool Khaki and Dark Qrey Ribbed Wool Socks I e j C FLANNEL SHIRTS AT CLEARING PRICES e CP TO 11.50 VALVES ( 1 C Q IN TWEEDS AND FLANNELS... e}» X e«2e7 FLANNEL SHTBTS «Pabe<L>a7 REOULAB UP TO «S^O C O Q C FLANNEL SHIRTS ... ..... «9aw)e09 15.00 HKAVTr TWEED f j e j Q f J He i Al Hi U CI Rl T< R. VI It w \ B V 11 V • • —. Infrequcu,* — -. lion of the apple »th»*>» ; rhagoletla baa not yefrifOUO should the berry be Sot r« 8 ^ ^ , « g ^ r o i \ » _Ju<? o&d^hVv^^e M^ajd my. •'fruity l*s dose i „ , „ „ - r ^ > r a » S tor"*n*m*i> ^_-9k.letoarto._. reetere from I the maggot By eo Increase tha»_ I overflow and a aaar«JHS»6#»*^ W?;.' W e l l , L o o k W h o ' s H e r e V - ' T h e W i l d A r u m By WILDWOOD. V THE dying- marsh lies wreathed, In , golden-rod and the blue of autumn • asters. No other flowcrt survived. th« flnt- . excepting-L r i i - v r I r e l a n d A n d T h a W a r 5y /7L'(7/7 CURRAN. -.CCopyrlght^ Uy-lhe-cktutham-eorrirjany.r Tie position of Ireland in s remarkable. One portion is officially at war and the ly. neutral. imie$^ln~tHe"n6fth~wTiIch" •om the larger section con-ty-six counties, are closely :at_Britaln,Jand subject. to for which Eire took electrical, steel and other goods. Although this country is heutral and Is regarded .by many as a desirable re-fuge" In this_tlm~e~6f7European ferment, It must not be thought that we are alto-gether unaffected by the crisis. A con-stant reminder is the nightly "blackpirt* In all 'rttfp«ranrl TI-IVUTIO T-1..V.1I- ' -keen rrost, ti _the_few-s*reaked—— violets, lowly and pale, on the hummocks. . Isolated by the hoof prints of cattle. , ^ ~ - *The'greens" become russet, lightened ' jgrgy in fluffy seed, but the great green_ leaves of the arums, vivid and succulent, are smitten to the heart. Lush as tropic foliage, they had no . armour against the frost. The most vig-orous plants of .the marsh, they sent theirs, roots deep Into the watery soil. Assured of its plenty, they spread'great roots a». perpetual pumps, drove moisture upward \ ' , fast as cells could •expand In. greenery, •'' '•'< rtiaking leaves bigger than anything but rhubarb, and of better form-than that, "•" '" Before" the huge leaves appeared, a • flower was sent up, the first of spring, formed In the temperate depths of the root while ice gripped the marsh above. Nowhlm-of-weather^hlnders the yellow spur that-rises' before the daffodils and swells Into a goblet of gold 16"bribe old-Winters departure. _ _ T h e marsh Is sturldi>ri-wlth-^h^»y^»«p-tive cups, In color so bright and gener-V pus that all should give them welcome and Journey to see them. None will, be-cause they have been blasted with a name of bad odor, and thousands who know nothing of the true scent oi trie flower scornfully declaim It a cabbage, spiced with skunk. This it'Is not. Eastward grows- a plant in similar places, with leaves somewhat resembling, having a flower of like form, but er> closed In a more globular leaf or spathe 1KaT"Is,mottled; and not the clear clean gold of the arum of the west. Their names are very different botanlcally," and wh.a.t-_ ever odor that may have, this has never given offense in the field where It belongs. Ditchers cutting through .Its roots have protested the strength of it* odor. but no one passing the marsh in spring. : time has cause for complaint. Many a hemlock la unpleasant, elder flnwprn, 1 though cloying, are not agreeable, and > . none complains of the romantic rowan, ijj||j|iijfce3 I a marshful of arums and leave over enough to offend the fastidious. Gardeners, In England grow this marsh arum for its beauty, western poets pro-test against its cabbagy description, co» respondents-appeal-for something-to-B*-done, but bad names cling 4o the tongues of those who do not think for themselves. T h e v ' . 'Strafe" t h e R u s s i a -C O U V E R D A I L t P R O V I N C E , A SOITHAM NEWSPAPER •pt Sundai and holiday! al the mare, in the Citv of Vancouver,. tne - Soutnam Company Limp 'UyER^B.r^JUESDAV, MARCH )aW»CteiS<»JB» R e s u l t s M a d i T o O r d e r than a hundred cast in the gen-n 'STundJiy.' Couilt-i big job. and the •Be" 'Ttn'osffi"I6r' il doesn't .matter. it the Stalin gov-stalned. It was was marked that simply because Dy tn Russia and, the ballot' members to he Southeast corner of HastLM Province, of Bnlish Coluirjl l ted. ' Ifr «.nd by 14, 1950 in Houses in Sun-1 be called a con-te Council of the •r and 631 fxi the And as- there in the ballots, all cted. They haa" nmenjt candidates, : else to vote for. ballot when you n election. -The can yofeTor are d you simply de-ok. If you wish dldate, you draw -But-th at doesn't, i any harm. He i It is rr ost satisfactory for the Rj sSlan gbvcrnme it to have everybody on i | | side fn the \\\ o great Houses- of Parlii ment and no opposition vote, no criticltm of 'pdlicrei "oif deTai7s""bT^amTrtlsrraTton,; • And it must ba a relief always to know before-hand uhaa the result of ihe election will be. Russian politics is.no gamble: it Is not even a fhitter. But what ihe people think as they are herded in .their millions to the polls is another matter. At the last "election _23J.Decent of^he electorate voted and the aim was to mafte it 100 percent this time. And no one-bothers to ask what the elected members think as they put their stamps on the decrees of Joseph Stalin and his henchmen. Neither the electors nor the elected ever say. That is not done in.Russia. : The USSR has all the forms, of democracy—popular 'elections, election by C o a F s F u t u r e A s s u r e d OTTAWA-^Bccaww oil pipelines and refineries are particularly vulner-able to—attack by an enemy- in time of war it would be foHy lor Canadian in : 'dusiry to place, itself in the position of "being" entirely dependent upon oil. This" is the considered opinion of government experts who point-out -also ^at--doflrw*Ua users of oil are in much the Valine po^  sition. For this ' S e e n A t i reason. ballot, houses of Parliament, speeches, diRcvissiqns. There Is even provision in .the constitution for a conciliation com-mission Ito bring peace between the two Houses, should they fall out. But jthe democracy ends in forms. Does anybody believe a hundred million people vjould'all votc_the same way unless-there was some overwhelming reason? ' l a i n l y T o U n c l e S a m rime Minister St '^•beert'doing' a in the United ?n trying to tell ienclix way. that trade barriers to en our countries, is impressed, a I industrial inter-They are lobby-5 to protect their eral manager of ociation, talks to om thi shouidirr I during the decade preceding 1949, for j-«vT>ry^do11ap-yrjtr-r bought-from- as -we : bought two dollars from you: that in 1949 ' every $S your 150 milljpn people spent in • Canada, pur; 14 million spent $7 in the United States. "If we are to maintain the Ihoast that 'we are ea<|h othep^iDeBtp^nBtciinef,'. then your American trade barriers must be lowered tb a point where Canadian goods are allowed to compete with yours :le4e!lsa^UC.!Lf^foer basis than that which ' now prevails." ' ' This is the kind of talk that registers, tfiat should" "really m"aRe~Tr.SrT™slness" igjefTand tffeTJ.S. people generally think ies of our trade S. ry of 150 million 2 of-a cbiintry of "You do not do productivity and and '8kUI> ; ^ i we : weigh-;pur-balance' as our* you -reali^ -that No , couhifryfnor^eveS States, can afford to continue such one-sided trade delations indefinitely. Too many countries are buying far more from Uncle Sam than he buys'from tjiem. Eventually the exchange trf goods will break down, Injuring all parties;.' Mr . . Marsh has' given Canadians .4 _ i „ an. on, pipeline. **f***r- putting It out of operation! for ^ oveMight^  hours, to realize what could happen in time of war," one official pbinted out. That pipeline, running from Skagway to Fairbanks, provided diescl oil. .. It was shut off. But the results-aCmbjor dis-ruptions caused by damage to oil pipe-line '^baft-readily be appreciated. Actually Canada is Using 'just about a* -much coal-as-it ever did,- -the-increas-ing use of-oil merely- taking- up the in* crease in demand .due., to. the .steady de-velopment of Canada's industrial plant frnd the growing-number' of -domestic fuel -consumers. ""^Tt'is true''tn^tM^:^ra^ways IaTe pres-ently building no more coai-fired loco-motives, but they have hundreds of loco-motives, of (he coal-burning type which WiTT "'continue to "be" serviceable foiT 25 or 30 years. the experts say, many industries and individuals will- continue to uw. coirfojr fueL iThUs the'future of Canadian coal l ipi l ies w o u l d seem to be as-sured, "One has. only to appreciate What happened .during" Exercise [Sweetbriar" when b u l l d o z e r . iashed_ 41irough_ oil, pipeline. Also.; in the meantime, the develop* mfint of the coal-firerj gas-turbine loco-have reached this | as economical and* diesel loco-. By WILDWOOD THE'•coming of spring wftve "of interest Into motive engine may point where it will be _ as efficient as the modern motive. ~'"And~wrri hr pipelines-<-and- -refinerias J^ ?T!L^lnerablejtd^^ the air," 'coal mines are reTa-attack. Also. In added one official, lively immune from ,L Canada,-we..have about 40tt. ininea-^an II natelv, too, these "m7Ees"TixT^  rolls a great _ , the plot of , ground about the home. Ithad been rTe^^t^^e^Taw^ arid' frosT;^  both "have done damage enough to sad-den the heart; but loss and havoc can-not dominate the spirit When snowdrops cVme"'f6 the breeze and the brave crocus "gleams brighiTy. In the garden, "nowhere else surety, the ^raind lives in the future. Thasejed" ark of hope, the bud is a""'pl*onilse. Fail-- ures and losses, | breakages and c a n n o t [simple, forcei jwheneverthc Next they should preach' go south of-the-borte. public iiitwitt art u and addntt of. (As ' ivnUtttrt Mgnek .., land.addTintd tnvtj'i uckett, 'Too Much iue^U| i r i« r io'rrie ^u^-fto'''^gnpred.. to*vl:»lncerity.1 arid l^i^ .convtficuig to ieomerf fa 1*1*. iri<er pud, wlifi ky.lai tm'lers, ea Still Sir:: Tnotd considers -A^<i('"l)ac | when she am . firM'JMKh/ in versatility, an . . •— ....ubBB.a WBUIUUKU, tome'in the east and some in the west. '-'*Rj|!Si!r. damage to. pipelines and refineries resulted from enemy attack -we wopH still have our reserves of coal to fall rback' upon." Ttaturilly, however, toal reserves JjgHjd- riotJjjjjMuch fmmedlate use unless 'items 'da.plums totii 6e ussaVi/.-r-oum iidm'ss; tetters trlfl -be-'opg - —, 1 lhat Mr. T. W. Benwell, (Mar. itnce^UWfia^osn^toTOMr (age-~at ,»he. tpndon^ pPiivluon her sister Muriel played their bndoiW I.'*M:lstouho^; at her have;:followed':her.,'c«re«r, with ..u.l1.e™indu"Wti and domestrc users were cqu p^peaTbTuse coir "ft" would be im-possible to convert from oil to coal over ntght-in case of-a-noUonal emergency. Thus, the" experts argue, industry ihoulrt think twice, before throwing .«lri» Ioal-operated plants in favor of oil^ burn-lg planta. . A certain amount of~con-erting will, of couple, .continue to take ;lace; -but Industry nught be weU a*' [laed-to keep- itand^ by coal-operated iilpment in„cafj» of heedi .(WOnvlh^A,u».or!ied: Wofon) i No* the aer^rit #«• ni<^»ubtii than j»ny. beMt^t«^ ; - f l t^ Mod-. ^ "'•miSiSff&S- WW&Mi/mm* spirit when daf-Wlldwood ( o d j l , p e a r , H r o risingt aconitea-open their goblets of gold and. primroses peep with baby-smiles. No matter how last year's garden fared, this will do better. New tips and wrinkles have been gathered, arid the "season"'"wfa'-be, ncrtert.—G««HgX|S«rs^ lions are dug in with each spadeful of sou", th"e~trowel-is shaiT3enea''.wlih faith, and is laden with assurance. The generations have «u«tainei_an* verifiett this'trust. ' Tfid soil still obeys the command to be fruitful. It holds miracle the i l  of birth and resurrecti6n." Man cpmes nearest to-creation when he plants.a seed and sets a bud. What hap-, pens in the cell he does not know, but by nearness to this" gneat -mystery he-he--j comet great himself,'magical and pro-phetic. .. .'•' Whether he-grows a.lettuce for his ;«al»il,~nr a lllv for-hja-aniara; >e)t dilaw-ing. sustenance for hli.snirtt., lie. canfeel prutejij a^vement^Huaulityan'jr^^' fi and always wonder in the beauty that rewards him. Any garden of planta, from- roses to 'rhiibafbv l ? i ^ :" fragrance, stimulating in color, engaging in pattern of leaf and variety of outline. There is charm and ecstasy in perfect bloom of lily-or begonia, there'is grace in the economy of line, in bean and cucumber. Health!Utnew-Js redolent in the - gar* . den. The esthete feeds on tint and de-sign, artist and gourmet both are-nour-ished by its produce; for the rose and lhe_ * Btra^yj^r iyuajc kin, ruiip and onion are The plot of only one tree may grow the apples of Hesperides, if by a com-moner name. One «erani#m may flash-radiance afar from a small window-bo*. \ Size of ground matters nothing accord-ing te* Herrick: . •*rDne7rj§Tt*'w^ [ l i grounds. Not envying others' larger bounds; For well thou know'st 'tis not extent Makes happiness, but sweet content. The contentment does sweeten the -aspirations.of .the gardener, whether in pansies or potatoes. He ^ inds here as elsewhere that reward is in proportCon toeffort. Seed and soil respond to treat-ment received; meanness and deceit can-not succeed with plantings. Weather ""mar injure, pests_ bother, trespassers may rob" or damage, that, is life, and life was always epitomized in . -garden. There is fallUkV "and dJiapV-pl» pointment, always blended; >itfcT new hope and there are gains that ctTn ie greater than all the-endeavor There is ever the miracle of growth •Tvhen the laws of nature- are followed, and.however the bouiids are narrowed, upwards they go to uU clouds and. stars. TliW ^ nlrit fit th» y-tU>Wm. fc^-thj! fW . ^ ' n^ t an andek soothsayer de-;ijeW »• the'soul as a watered garden? w Hi H Ol Al Hi Al V7 • •4.S0 M a h o g a n y D r e s r t n g T a b l e •po / *ou C h i f f o n i e r a n d $75.00 116.00 F u m e d OaJ« C l o c k . G r a n d -fa the r •<>]«. w i t h c a t h e d r a l 1340.00 S u i t * Tor . . $299.50 P i e c e M a h o g a n y $310.00 chirr; $67.50 t l p e c l a l . - P i e c e C o l o n i a l M a h o g a n y BetJ -r o o m S u i t e : bed. dre**er a n d ST*..... $115.00 H A V E $80.00 S S I - . 0 0 ft-Ptec* Q u e r n A n n e B e d r o o i n b u l t c — ] n b l a c k w a l n u t . S p e c i a l . $435.00 «b.'?"...:. $26.75 $45.50 F u m e d Oak B u f f e t . . *J>0/.Oil JSO.OO S o l i d M a h o g a n y S e r v -S p e c i a l $25*00 110.00 S o l i d M a h o g a n y S e r v -Table- $25*00 I Save »9O.0O—1390 00 10-P1ec*> W a l n u t D i n i n g ; Su i t* , C r o m -w e l l l a n dealg-n. t t » O A / \ S p e c i a l «PoUU S a v e * 1 W M » — M 3 B . . 9 G r e y E n a m e l e d B r e a k f a s t J l o o m Sui te , 10 pieces, i n A d a m des ign . . l * 0 * 7 t ? S p e c i a l / { > J I" x\)S - '1 S I N G I x E BRASS BEDS JIT.&O J-f t . B r a s s dVoO P A B e d $££.50 "III"':1'™ $24.75 • 3 . SO = B r a . , $29.75 135.00 C o l o n i a l S ty le M a h o g a n y H a l l Seat , h a l f p r i c e . So l id M a h o g a n y Sp ine t D e s k . . $17.50 $50.00 l e a t h e r " . . / *OU 1140.00 I - P i e c e S o l i d M a h o g -ia»tV<^  »p X «_}si-.«>U 1100.00 1 . P i e c e P u m e d . t D t x k t l 50.00 i . p M t r y c o v e r e d . It*, 0 * _r jA Bulbs , i n g e n u i n e M o r o c c o . crtJ»J>IUU.UU S p e c i a l E A ; I112.56 " " ^ ~ HiG.OO 1 P i e c e F u m i d Su i t e . S p a n , i s h l e a t h e r . . . i $97.50 Bolld U a h o e -$190.00 1119. (0 1-Piece S o l i d M a h o s > In t apes t ry $200.00 J-T-J> j* -g- T r r _ °~ V—V.SM Sp ine t D e a l t . . . ; - w w w . • » - ~ | ?F3:^VMN S A L E O F WOMEN:S BOOTS START.< ON MONDAY - O C R S H O E B U Y E R has just returned from a ccnnoarrprlcejr. We i u n tire for walking, etc., with Goodyea. and complete variety of fine footwear at startlingly No. 1—Brown Calfskin Walking Boot* —WITH Goodyear welted soles, made in U. S. A . , in widths of A A to D. Regular ».00. Sale $ g price . sell you "top grade" f""tTPnr nt trnri nmr timn | come. Included are shoes for dress, for the street, such as no other store ever attempted, offering a full No. 2 — Dark Brown, Grey and Forrest Fawn Kidskin Boott ' — W A I . K I J J O T I T L E S , - . l i b rQ. b a n . J""»eneh a n d m i l i t a r y heels, a n d G o o d y e a r w e l t e d . o l e a M a d e In l \ s. A . , I n w i d t h , t^ 1 1 . 00 D R . C t i l a r i,p 6 a l « P r l c $6.98 Manyothefl inesindudedin this s a ^ s D r e ^ w e „ a s ^ fa ^ 3—Black Kid Boots — W I T H S a n d 9-Inch tops a n d F r e n c h or C u b a n hee ls . S m a r t oYe«« shapes , w i t h w h o l e o r t h r e e - q u a r t e r f o x e d v a m p s . K p e c i a t l y w e l l f i n i shed . M a d * In I ' . S. A., i n AA to u w i d t h - . H e g . 11.00 a n d 19.00. Sa le p r i c e . $4.98 No. 4—Novelty Soots -IN BROWN and grey patent leather, grey kid, (awn kid. and brown kid. Regular up to $15.00. Q / » Q Q Saleprice.. v O t i / O No. S—Black Kid and Patent Leather Dress and Walking Boots —WITH DULL kid. calf and cloth tops, and French. Cuban a^d low heels. Regular tip to $7 and $8. .Saleprice... $*3.0«7 Pledge Your Earnings Buy Victory Bonds C A N A D A F O O D B O A R D L I C E N S E S : 5—1483 8— 14&&J) 1 0 - t i 3 « 1 I — J B S •IHCOFrPQBA rco'/o/t/ Button Boots - W I T H P l . ' I . I . k i d t o r ' H n o r l -year « c l l NO!-'*. low (ii-rl m i d m e d i u m h ro . id m u . A Kuod twhtiyl l)f>ot fur liiK g i r t* » ho t ake w o m e n ' - r.|*>*. I- i : w id th s . In Mizes . ' t o 6. l i e -F U U r IE.50 Sale T>rlce. $3.69 Department. See Georgia Street window. Vancouver's $15,000,000 Club Have you joined it? Who totd the little. Downy- Wood-in-nri thai Um t i l l i on tha. thlmbJe-w r y can** ar* no* rr*dr for pick? • this anotatr Inatano* of that nn-m m r powar we call tnatl-ct or bma ita leaat of all t i _ w o o d p « o k « i - tried M B before today* Walchartr ts the w«, the t * D - n y (Tabe that hav* bean j^eauae of the u-ly lamp, on the Jcoteo-cap" Tint* ar* BOW plump and iter. T h e caU-flr pl*re-d th« akin • the ypting ibopt la tb* •prtnx and >ere ojr>o^r^ ttV f a doing this ire of the atem t M * STadttaDr a ° o n y -xubemnoe gnm aboni t ie (pot, U&oat aa la ire a* a walnnL Insect* are <jp*«r ways of Urtngl B e n t tn Ucea t&er need ar* batnf; pom pod op trtabia. until D o n y coTDca tapptnc u u u / i i w i i i w ana un» r o b a e r - e r a o r • . i j t o r e , be the • * b d n s -i n j c a t e n u i l a r e . H * la one of the few M r * * , too. that w o r k «JI the round f o r ue. on ly tbe few day* o f x « £ wea*n*r - l a y t n - h i m o f r - w a i i V " 5 r r o i e o bark r e a U u h i . , r f o r t * 1 j chunk o r two o f suet then bun* _ n d w the t r e e , he" S f f t : l n * n mon th* wou ld t ide ^ . . t ^ - / ' O K , n l n ' » o « l - t ide o w tbe etai-Vatlcm week* - e r y n i ce ly —«Od be w e l l earned. K n o w n a i the W e » u dxeaaed l u tLe usual Biagg and w h i t e w i t h aca rUt on the n * c f c ~ T h e n o r a l l e t a w b o to ld ue i h * t i f — etood e t l l l t h . s r a M wou ld e r o w d e r o a r f « e t were no t good oa tu r -tata, o r they w o u l d k n o w that a r i a s n do n o *och thine-. B u t these w o * r-™***trawel T , r y f a i ^ T a W he wood land t r a i l s now and yet r e t - w l i h e p i d i V i ebs! T h e fact the more c m u n a t h e . vered the more webby wou ld the* " n a e . fey i b e s * fh j* l ines o f o i l i 1 *rrerj j a r d o f apace t h r o n y t l bushe. . The I m p l ine* of the itpidi have existed a l l through the auininer but <kcto.ber mois ture coverlnw thern w i t h pear ly drjpw 0 f dew, make* i b e m more v i s ib l e , and, of course, as the young commence buslneaa for them-cer ta loiw more of them >ut In •e open space* where « 1 " w l n ? J * n • u l J , m * r • u n n a * k * » them r u s h l i k e w a v i n g thread* of f a i r y a l lver . ar* hundred* of thousand* of spider- l ine*, apparent ly a l l a t loose ends, f loating, a i m l e s s l y i n the a i r T h i s Is the -gossamsr'* o f the poets sa id by dry-ea-du*t d ic t ionar ies to be a co r rup t ion uf " r o - i u r n m e r " because M appear* i n au tumn, bat knowrf by a l l t rue f a i r - fo lk i© com* f r o m the I t a l -i an gossaml ra , " wh ich means mag ic goose-down, i -or do not f a i r i e s f l y on these gent ly undulating; r lbbona o f • i l r e r ? A n d b r carefu l w a t c h i n g y o u may somet imes see them a c t u a l l y ant. t i n g s a i l on tb* a b v »ca . I T h * l i t t l e ap lder on l e a v l n r t h * co-| eoon wher* It waa hatched found " sel f to be n n u n welcome guest at l a t m i y fi « ; ~ a n a "TwrxTr»g~b"y • the m u r derona aapect o f Its parent, r an o f f suddenly to nets II* 6wn for tune. R u n -n i n g up soma fence or s t o m p to * point of r e n t a w « o n the breese. f rom some Inter ior spool tba f a i r y t r ave l l e r spun out l i s l i n e s The w i n d took UD the. ends, tbe spider p a y i n g o u t f r o m .ItSTreel u n t i l the streamers were s t rone I enough to l i f t the crea ture f rom Its feet, when i w x r It went, I lk* A l a d d i n on h i * carpet , to s c t t l * wherever the w i n d decided. J t 4a ft * o a d £ £ t o m u ^ p e z ^ e - f c o w - ' ^ .•pid^r c*n. "p l n ymrM" "ut °r c o n t i n u a l l y . w i t h o u t coming to the end o f « t s tether. The operation, though ever marve l lous . )• m o r , r U b l l y under-stood when It U known that the thread" 1. l i qu id when It leave* the tube* In the •pld*)"* a n a t n m y and hardens at It emerge*. The s t i c k y f l u i d i * l i t e r a l l y poured for th and thn f l o w can be slopped o r * tar led Instantan-eously. T h i * of the gc*tutmer Is the finest thread in nature. E a r l y a s t ron -omers seeking means to d iv ide the b i g space revealed by thei r huge telescope lenses, crossed tbe glass w i t h s i l k w o r m threads. These were found to be too th ick , as greater accuracy became possible. T h ' v were then sp l i t , mak-ing l ines of only l-ZObOth of an Inch In th ickness . L a t e r on, an E n g l i s h m a n named Trough ton noticed the fineness o f tbe spider '* web kind was a b l * to induce a epider to give htm a Una. c lear and twtstleaa, four t imes s m a l l e r than t h* s p l i t s i l k - w o r m - * thread. T b l * i s " s p l i t t i n g ha i r*" w i t h a vengeance! 5lomsthlng l ike ten thousand o f them side by a id* cove r ing the space of on* n are thee* s i l ken cord*, c lear ir lees except when tbe auh m ra inbow gl int* , they are yet etrengtn. A bur ly bee may rough on* somet imes by aheru-weight , but hornets and dragonf l le* are often beld by the masy web of the orb-w e a v i n g spiders . The epelra o r garden spider la the big, golden-brown fellow that *pm* the c i r c u l a r wed w i t h r » m over t i n rfi»»* and raspber ry ranee and un ga l e* and fences. The other morn ing , ea r ly , one or these had Jujt finished bis . *^a« la ( M -fsooja^tb* J rot iof . . golden rod o n the roadside. «*li-n t o jumped s g r a s s h o p r x u r ight le >" ren t r* o f It. T w i c e i t - s u e v' t ' ie aplder. H should have ro-n ' «»> l " r h i m to escape, but the web vi»iji- . l h i * feet as he i r l - d to Jump, *n . l * rmr h * was essay ing to t n foul hold. M i i - l f * ran round and over h im » i i f i maHl i i i i e •peed. Over and round hiiti j i t a i r i ut.n aga in , t r a i l i n g a t h r o u l <-r bad tb* graM*r.o|ipt-r c u a - « l i>s -i muramy—and *i> uuiet. )'>r «*>':>< M.; c o u l d move no nior.v - h i HHV d im 'do " k i s s o t death"—a m j > t ' r i " u * in ie n>ai cb lo ra fon i i s th* prey unt i l »r>- in r>_dy to eat It. N o w where d i d tliat ej.i.ler 1-i.rn a l l th is? I t was pro l iuMy lite *rl, . ah* h a d spun—no uihrr.i>|jid>r . utiir lu l a y out a plan (or her ur r i t n i"T I t h * pat tern. T h e (r»*»iiun-rr *-i iu.. first Of b»r v i c t i m * , b u l j-hr kr.-w r.'.» to h a n d l * Dim. H a d i t b-r.-, -U.*JI moth or f l y she wou ld h » \ r . . n c i J i l -fe ren t ly . s p i n n i n g the Tiy ar . .u . , . i l,i-Mtead ot Jumping over It. or i . ; i l i :w it immedia te ly w t l h o u i u r ' i . ' l l i b r c «1 a l l s . . Co ln ran* migh t be w r t u * n o n i l i e ex-t raordinary "knowledge" of the v tu l i .q* •p ldt r* . T h e * r e d l Kru i f f imivn 1 *t>T? ipent year* dulng !1ttl» 1-16' ttmn i t u d y l n g «vnd r ecord ing t i i - l r «.>lv;ileli-Inf power*, yet the marvel and tli» wonder SUM rema ins . IW« m i » t t : r i . . u * power of t n i i l n n s i l t ) b s T l e a m e nu-rnsn mind . T h e ica l i - r iy *:r\>».. i m * other parsJill*". Is fed *-« 11 l i -» . i«_ ' o « l y to open 1'* m-»uth _nd m > , some dn not oiirn t i ieir muUih* tn:i ar* nourlfthed i i t w u t b U>* *kti>. W h a t - s t r ide f rom that, w a y of » e * d l a g to l i s o f t h e ^ I i r t 4 « ^ w 1 j f l ^ m u * t l e a v e U s l i r t l r . u f r . n u " f * i r tangle th«r ihr-*.i i-l«" * tin- t i l f ly" l"t'.« ln'K ', •••tii, int,.-» l u o n » » . . U e > . ' Ii- cir . ' ;m f t l l l hi the i-.ei f rom burn ing II.-j- . urlol l u t l l v upersnl I. A.i the t-vriiliia; »utl ir«-••"». i i ie ntptr Hlr t u r n n l " " w i t ' twnhl trot rtse i n i M nut "in the warmer -Treading out In spooky a l l ho l low* mere f i l led ghos t ly and and IJI! Iters <-to. lunejy In Ihc di ;-k T h l a morn ing , breaking r l e a r find br ight above the val ley , *,as hidden in mi«l and emnlcn « h o a the sun came round the muumaln . T h l a h i l l f i r i n g h im u * r m e d uf> rtutcklv whi le the )..» ernond s t i l l h<i;.t the -liarlf.n * n.,,) a . the l,e.:'.rri » i r .,'<j-.- i i ( .» . , rch . the .H-pom t<«l_w w e r i rirasn up after, and anon the h i l l w d * * l l e d In peat rmnke f l o w i n g over t j i a - r l d g e l i k e a fiftod •dWber * .id w! unv • xru-"- t ' . a i utTer" Uu t the • . i l e t . - i r - f In tin? c t ream* I* a rea l ne *r.H th. tin- *u< ..-ceding genera t ion • th:i( wtif-h hlnotiied i n the s p r i n g T l l i r , i n , . . . - t a ! , . | IK-HI f l avored ef • val.i-f- i l !• aarlly rtegliMted h> Iho u ho <til»k a Mtlai l must be forreri u drr »t;i»n to he appe t i s ing • >M I'-IITI1 nee know i t s w o r t h and pr ise h i * l i l v I ' h lnamen o * i m u c h o f the h m l l h l-> II* KIMH) elT*rla> _rul imrng ••>«• i l " g r o w t h tn s t ream* an.I • e^rii • ml w l i e old fluhermpn rnjo) Hi.- r r l l , * !th tbetr outdoor lunch It s,ri» e n a l l / anS profuse ly In any runn ing » . n « r A l o n g the g r a i e l l v c i r - i - ; i . V - ami ihe f r . i i l r - i . | - i h r yel . i - r i j ond spr lnx H n a h i l y *ojdrt i t pre t ty nar row f'.!m«f. it f lourlaha* brave ly w h f « n-i oifi^r fi^wer" could find nniiri-.linn-i:i . hfldren 1, At for i nbJed rlt-h A - •'. i * . ar.d In England, j t « . I l .-h.-rrfuly l*k*» l h * barr-a. g u t t y ground that holds BO coo 1st or». s*0y luo f u l l y occupied . o cir respond i n t . "WV»t \ he wate r ro lo r ska l r r i ] a t aph! r> i -» or hawk-motha of l ^ p i d o p U , , . T r , , n K I „ , , , , h i n In the T a m i l - bey-au.^ o f , h " f t h l * c a t e r p i l l a r when i . ream uu ihe froni «-nrt of 1M bend* down t h « h-.il s-< l r Ih. iught . l i k e thr *-M.rtl„i" O lhe r* t h i n k H i - iHm- I, r idd le It g tv«a bv ihut 1,1,. k It), t . l l - i d N - . w - l . • » „ E i It l» for-of I th the *'firea.-nJ" or tfie East . »" » amall. wh i t* f lower and ' * l * i » i J h J groundsel fami ly . f~\ W I L D W O O D . Tlrand her . *jnd In Pr ince Rupert I _ >p re*jt-t of her daath af ter a a U l t n s a at a S w a a . - » d a u # h t * r \ o i _ _r lyt* B r a n d and A n n i e B)o> _ Urandeiarid up to a moatb sgtt resided a l t b her parents at P r i n t * R u , pe r l , where t b e - f a m i l y had been foe p«urt s ic yesrs . She was M a l t i n g brother-in-law. Cap ta in C . V>. i rmoo th . of ttit E i g h t h a rem** west. . 1o l fompe*y <rtth her -parents w t M « _ t a W h III a week ago. T b e f u -neral taofc place at tli fas twrday fro." Ih* re« ldanoe of Cacplaln -wear-mouth. I1U0U8 iactly ' who >rt is ion 13 ill go iakes-urt: rht, adc, iment o the ' you their ed in 0 the 1 was hour, faclo v the ating that ireful at os ireful show risk in a ating; ainst I f the n the ge.. t, is a haa 1 the siona track have it. of Open Air Jottings Mud and Migration By WIXTJWOOD. The Fraser in not the stream It uood to be ten thousand years ago. when with Ice and flood. It piled up tho heaps of dr;rt and gravel that now H " « n *R l . - h ' . l I ' . - ^ d - y«."."lM'aX — .,oB»>impt is true these helghte ov -4>ne The iltfon inada I not sither their »posi-:o of 'fi., work tn of even hady gr ao >|>oae is n nuch i much of their eminence to the lifting of the coaetllno abou  (hat time, when it la thought the great Icefields melted and relieved tho land ot their weight. But the river haa thrown up many a mound and bank ejneo then; many a ridge hua been raised and many an Island laid do-'n before the present foreats bfcgan. For this mighty av-enue of moving water carries enor* rnous freightage. Its mlsBlon la mov-ing mountains, ita vocation la building plains: llttlo by little and inch by inch this great commoner of the prov-ince) strives to extend thfl land uut to tli*. sen. and to bring- tho earth to one sandy level. * • • » • > The amount of matter brought down by the river varies much between Him-mer flood and wlnt-r quietude. In freshet timet* trees aro drifted, banks ;iro cut a..(; solid masses of ea rth aro carried away. In winter tho lav- i lngs aro alow and gentlo. but at all I it men thi water la muddy, tho deposits come c*own continually. Averaging through all the months, about sixteen tone of solid matter are brought to the eea overy minute. T1U.H stream _oXjnud,_ thrpifgh.Ullages that have passed since the"' Fraser ehoso Ha present position, has built the delta seawards nearly twenty miles, making fertile plains, points and islands, . Kood f^or.,planJ and bird mid bcas't, triereloTo for man. In a training 1921. 7ii por cent, were found td be| resulta of ."faulty arc alarmipg. j Mature develop with a view & 1 right position! of the unlversb i as a "centre of talnlng thy pfope HeaifhlaUd Disease Posture [.amp In England In iof tho young men Buffering from the posture." Statistics iii H e n r y tap 4 SONS f LIMITED i DIAMOND MERCHANTS ! !: VANCOUVER the human body '{a assuming tho up-*'ice all other bodies ias what 1b known 1 •avlty." In main-balanced position „ ...y r---j'^ -a uomiivou position. this centro; must lU directly above Its base- of support, fhiob is the aroa of tho s^olos of iho feet and the epaco between theniJ Supporting the body on this baifo Is tho lekeletal framework consisting | of :bon«a arranged with Joints which aro moved and controlled by muscleif and ligaments. It ie conceivable!, therefore, that any my) alteration iof nyl skeletal frjamewoi upright piano mu| equal adjustment rectlon byi oomo balance is* to roun example, the shoulders 'are This id portion of the [**; from its normal it be offset by an in tho oppoelto dl-[other portion If i| maintained. For |«rshouldered types, thrown forward on , Offset by a bowing portion of tho splno The mud becomes burdensome to tho river at its mouth. Tho sea will have nono of it. tho load must bo dropped at once, tho salt water caused it to "flocculate" In tiny lumps and the curious condition may be found ot clear, fresh water (Towing out over the surface of .the • sallne-tldo. Ions after the sodlmcnt has fallen. Somo of the mud combined with lime and shelly material, making a atcno that the fishermen call clinkero. Some driftwood sinks and helps to hold the mud and so new banks are s'owly built up, a rich heritage for land-ltfe. tho chest, backward below. | | J Not onlyj aro tho bones Involvod In I tho process, but, oNylng to tho unusual continuous) stnln, the muscles and ligaments losu their tone and become tirv.d and ivoa't. With this thu chest and abdomjlnal cavities aro altered In size and sljiapc. Tho organs of tho BO' cavities And it necessary to adapt .themselves to tlhelr now surroundings and arc compelled to change thoir pos-itlon. while doing so they can not function thoroughly, proper function-ins organs arc essential to good health. It la, thoreforo, obvious that on simple mechanical grounds tho malntonamo of tltu natural body poe-important to comfort and 'Some ads arp lies from end to end, A.nd some gre\at lies were neyer penned.' ture Is health. 1 But the madjia at onw^henvef com-tho i the tvon-mon that My flow-sing-'s in prn-be-IOU0 why med not allowedto rest _..„ -Iv r must keep open its channel and aa this elite up it cuts out others, and they aro clogged in turn.. Opposing* the flow are the rest-less tides, at one timo luring -with a backward ebb, then rushing back with a choking; flood, crowding every cut and channel for miles up-stream. Cur-rents turn and eddy- blindly seeking that rest which tho deep sea only can give. Soft places give "way, and mud once settlod moves again. Bars and banks aro wearing continuously on their up-per side, and aro growing as continu-ously on their seaward edge. As sub-merged islands .they aro for ever mi-grating onward to the ocean Wheru a alight bend once, starts In a bank tho curve Is deepened. The water strikes there with, increasing force, tho1 bank Is undercut, huge [blocks fall, and again n*tpvo seaward. Always tho river! la crowding the mud down, always the wind and the tides repel. The rivjer wins, for tho sea must take the water and then make room for tho Intruslvo silt.. The wind and tldojjdlreet the deposit If they can not prevent It, The tide has a northern sweep across the delta, and most of.tho mud is laid north of the river entrance, j The Fraser recks j nothing of years ant ages, as It filesidown the hills to fill up the sea. On i tho north side of Its mouth it is building land at the AESCULAPIUS. UNCOMMON SENSE Flood Tide. JjOHN BLAKE It haa [been1 strated by the h "lent that mein their mentJil b-their... .thirtieth. Inasmuch as pretty well demon-atory of human achleve-n and women aro at <Bt somewhere between aridreixthrth--yoars: -a ? n ^ ^ F l ' ^ " ^ « = years of i in f l .° 0 d ,- , " 1 < ! ^ e a r a ire tho h. Zl,*.1li.m"Hr.Ul'- w h e n tho mind 5 5 9 G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t One Address Only are unequalled for quality and flavor. These are delicacies of the first magnitude and they are priced with moderation in order that they may be within tHe reach of ail. Also carried, a'full line of Ppesh Butcher Meats. First quality only. Pundit a Motoh A ' youn^ 'JeSgineer for Bun. listened'to'the foggy observations of d lot I of old Philosophers until he determined to toko tho wind out ot their aalle by la well .^V^IL.••j'"";:i''• ™ r a t n o ma , —'•" out ot meir aatle by ion asiX^ X u 8 ? n » r a l "n'ornla- """no technical talk of his own; ao he in inoiinaru school of exDerlnnL>« followlnrr rfAH/.rtr,H/iT, rtP -..-[_-• deal i  the ;h rd sc l f p rience. There" ar \ occasional cases of men who have tstontshlng progress under thirty, but occasional cases have nothing to do with the rule. ! There Is no reason for discourage-ment because a young man has come to his twenty-ninth year without having gotjihls ship out into tho main channel, aid forth on an auBptclous voyage. [[ There mo^ ir have bewn many mistakes, many misahances, many act-backs. There n^ jiy havo beenj much un-succe8sfur[group,„K abp^ t for tho right kind j|of start. T - "L%*L±-tht_t«?« Vhiw spent ten foot average j across delta. i ! Some long. Iongf dsy It will win Its aim, and will bridge]'the straits to tho outer islands 1 1 ...... vi ma nme uaus spent has been waotcd, for all real effort has exercised the will, and/experience pf every1" sort can be turned to account later on, even If It has n^ t seemed to be of any value at the*/time tt wao gained, ! : In the nowapaper busliiaas, with which I am more familiar of than any other occupation. I have seen docens of boys hunting around for u. start for long and dtscouraglng years. . J 1 Some have beoome. so discouraged that they have turned into tether chan-f ll i g doscrtptlon of a wonderful ! machine he; had Just been watching: "By means} of a pedal attachmejnt." he said, "a "fulcrum lever converts % verti-cal reciprocating mo"' 1 into a Circular movement. | The principal, part] of the machine Is a huge dine that revolves In a vertical piano., Powor Is 'applied through tho axis of tho disc, and work is done on the periphery, and the hardest steel by mere, impact may be reduced to any shape:" But one old pundit looked sternly at him over his spectacles, and said: "Young man, seek not to darken with folly tho coun-sels of the wise. What you nave eo verbosely described would be au easily recognized If you just called It a grind-stone." Give Your Child the Best raw^ver^rr^eo^ *ther ohan-t  f t . io iroaa tho whole M u ^ M n T ^ r ^ S ^ ^ phanco" in ^Journalism. • Bu t meanwhile others (have bant doggedly Alone, and moat o t these have found their chance, and gone a . one; way oh their Journey tiy the t ime bey are forty years old. 1 I t le. I know from the experience of others, mu th the same In | other em-ployments. A lmos t every week I meet someone et w h o m .1 have,, lost s ight since he was a young lawyer or a young doctor, f ight ing wha t seemed' to be a losing battle t o . i e t to"the'.tdp. .1 I. A l l o t , these, who were real fighters, tire on their way to" the topJ I n *act I kin constantly astonished tot learn how tar a long ]some of them have como I Caught. Irate Father <to eon whom he has caught nmoklng)—Smoking, he>! . Son (nonchalantly) — No, oir to-bacco. .1 Artistic surroundings, scientific | care and highly efficient teaoh-er9. Extensive sti-dy In the education of ohttdren bag beeu made by Mrs. Stella Abbey. Kindergarten Work 6 Music Dancing D Gymnasium BEST C0T3 MEDICAL EXAMINATIONS Tenua on Application A D D R E S S : 1273 N E t S O N S T R E E T VANcbfJVEIt, D.C. Telephone: Seymour 8979 3OE30I Tea i woeo rarther Thou Ordinary • Wse 7.)ss. j Pac>a« In Vanoonver—Bold by Oroo.rs. Many housewives their first ton of I t l A f l l A m THB DAILY PTOYIKCB,.TjLHOOU VJBH> B^STTSR- COItTTSSWJL VBJDAX. JAlTOAlgY 2 1 1 1 • 1 1 1 ' •* *• 1 " •'• - I J' 1 1 > 1 • 1 • • • * • • ' O P E N - A I R J O T T I N G S By WILDWOOD For sixty hours rata baa b*aa faH-tali in".ofthoas continuous I f " i . ' ^ ' S I S f " ~ " ~ * pour, which this country takes with ^"Jf , JgJS, e^ led D l u th* tall •S»S»i»'2 °f.L i^Jf^Si of ^  bird pr^^a InbrtcaSt .tha. ma equanimity ox a auua. and water ourse, are ewMpad beyond bounda. and tba virtue, for which tba M U in urn go floatlaa aaawara and ara lost. . . : Good *lf (a tn excess become arlla. th . vegetable aalU and mlnaral mat-ter now tin. and eoluble, that should b. taken down to tbe root regions of tba sou ara awept lrapotuouely_ out to tba rlvara that ara atatned w«th a yel-low that la liquid sold. If all tba sun-itlncaVhlch makeV tba dlf fer.no* b*. twaan nura dropa of rain and tba muddy eSdlee oftfio river could be re-turnS to tb. soil. Its value could b* named In term, ot gold. Garden* that struggle deeperately among rock, and gravel an tba alopaa of our chore "ue. would ravel lo the rtahr^ a. of Eden could they be slv.n la dredged from tba ohoktaff month, of tba rivers. .,IS l l n o W ^ n ^ o ^ . ' u erevented by the vegetation that fbrtva.bU.SI. of tbanr Nj"" P*?" vldes the verdure to bold thla molatuTa in leaf and root until tba eoaklns Sound can abiorb and filter It^ before uUllty vital th. Tu'lliiiailli'S l*a war through —-roots bSowTtta water J"»«b»»{Sj .«?!. rood. It baa sathered. and the n?!ddr«" o i l Ibi furrow tsorystjl clear at tba aprlns: tbe eea should re-Ita river. Juat aa clear. How far In the earth thla rain can defend haa"not r « iwn to^det^ Smote ™u?h'»m..ton*« and eandetonSTlt ' ^ I J t e . but ^o-lr: through ehalee and «gg travel In crack.; tba sranltea paraii lta passage only throusb "slips" and "fault.." But down It goea. . In coal mine, we have met sprtns* l«oo feet down, metal mlnen bava found It lower .OIL . __ . . Aa It take, on the heat of tba rock.. that are passed. Ita temperature-sata*. it the rateoflta depth, and when It I return, to the .urfa.ce as hot spring or geyser, we can «uea» how far It sank before galnlnj warmth. such a etaady perala- oneercm aoroosiio KUTIUW « lence? H saturatE eve ry th ln • 'bu t the grnb-hunters. a flock of .luneoes came Jf-.i... b l r J i N o v t i e marvellous down on the wind, settling about In nr^ rlnV on those airy feathere the v ine . like.falling leaves, prylns In " w e ^ S . u « . r m £ * Ifow eB that every corner w l l h t M I r Ivory Jill, for careful preening, occupation, apparent- J either grub or need. No sons with ly. af vain and Idle naomenta, t. pot to vital proof, Tba rain-drops bonnoe off Ineffectively from contact with m i ou gianoa WITH, new wv of tba bird produce a lubrican  that le alas waterproof. .Taken In the beak dturlne tba Bird's toilet this all. Is laid on'abaft and barb to ftva aloe, end Bprooeneae Incidentally only, funda-mentally: It makes for smoothness motion sad repulaton^of mo let ore. Bo the sprtgbUy chickadee. .Hiring a meal among tha tblmbleberry vines, pay no bead to the rain. Il moat be Just as easy to perch with head up-warda, but they prefer to .wins down-ward, aa they peep tn and about tha sal^aweUlnsa on tba vtnaa, where tha downy woodpecker baa excavated for srube. Ba may not have cleared them entirely or an early ftyln* Inaeet may nave taken .belter there: anyway they ara worth aeanmlns'. A corres-pondent standing near a flock of the*, moat Intareatlns; titmice found that some said "sblek^-dee-dee-deMaa. dee-—five -dees." that la—^whtle I others always answered with two dees 'only. Bis oonolnaloaa ara that tba utter ware females, aa tbe calls were i always In that order. Aa Mrs. Chick-adee dree see exactly like her husband 1 do not know bow to decide question until nestlns time. , While bunttnc, they chirp to — another with, a very pretty toned "pe-eD," assuring each other of their preeenoa, sains tba "chlckadeer* for conversation less Intimate , • These worklns tn the rain, however, worn a different variety. .It la a pity to oritur confusion to local observers, but tba dictates ot eolenee must be observed sometimes, and to thla case It may add to tha Interest of the ob-servation If a white line le looked for [over tba eye. In tba ordinary bird the black hood comes down to the eyes and beak. In the mountain oblokadee 'a streak of white rune from tha beak over the eye to tbe back of the head. Tba same white breast and aides of brown, tbousb In these tbe brown Is llshter. My birds moat assuredly bad this distinction yet they are not supposed to visit this territory. All other flocks will' bs easerly scrutinised . In the future. The call was not tha usual leneth. but a short chlck-de-de, which la characteristic of the tit of tbe Interior mountains. • I While watching;, motionless, s e  t s 1 ch ful c batic activities of JELL'O for D e s s e r t t o m o r r o w STRAWBERRY JELL-O Dissolve a package of Strawberry Jell-O in a pint of boiling water. Pour into a bowl or mould and put In a cold place to harden. Turn eat on a plate and serve plain or with whipped cream. Importers aM^m&chiea 6Q2 GfiAMv//MC Snaxrf V!"J tnsss. satjraiimiiwiesrtrt^'WtkW s lna l fee a w m ~ ^ ^ d a a t ^ r ibis rortta fsadtn*7 around, for ly • woodpeckers followed. s»-» • tb*laaUiaify JWwlsb?' of _ _ tavthree down', last bet foetheir warsspani, adssa examined with care Smffirik thanTwhlah filahteC " t wb*a • ^ « « ! 1 c V ^ r v y ^ l n r ovee tba bin •an* their daflanea to mad and rain. nhansTfl* nota AJ ready-1 •uished tn tbatr eons, pectins . Is dtstln-ThW ara Than ^wo°ftsakbllw» jass id sa *» » wooda, thes».eal lm* *%ea-opr wtth tba  -aaa-opr wi h a ants rmmlstasahra' Bava {bay de-cided that wtotse I* over, and- that no colder spell wOI' follow -the three daya* rain? One doubts thstr weather wisdom, bat honss they are rtttfL One Unels robin did appear baser* tham, bet would sot stay.-. He Is,to ba lass trusted as a weather prophet. Tba dlstlusulsbed wlskora of our arlntar woods ara a flock of evening grosbeaks Other rears we hav* seen them only tn rail and spring, as they passed before sad after tbe sere term of tea winter. This winter tber bava gladdened our wood for .a month past and It Is ear hope that an •are frost or bUzsard wfll drive them away. . When discovered en tha sTowad they rise an together to the tram with a chirping that Is almost Detains to Its nils' aa musical ss ttnklm*)stass. Their night le a trotter of-baaa^tn. harmonious feather eolorA thatlbland m the wintry drapery o«'t*s''wosda>''. On crown erf bead, en wtaw; Sad'tatt Is the blackneaaof., barel blanches against tha sky. Th* beautiful olive green of back and breast Is on* with the mossy nodes of tha trunk. Tha brighter yellow en forehead and shoul-der with tha white en thvtntfor feath-er* of wins merge easily with lichen and liverwort that cling with them to bols and branch. Whether there or on th* floor with moss and fern and leaves their setting Is perfect Other birds hav* brighter feathers, none he* lovelier bun*. Thstr senna was named from Hesperus, of the western setting sun. and one poetic'soul finds In their feathers the passing -of day; golden tints for sunset, sable hue* for night, and whiteness for th* dawn of mora. The conical tvory beak Is their most conspicuous feature, and on Its strength their life Is now depending. Assured of safety they drop to earth agstn one by one, to pick and crack <n« maple "note" with whlcirthe wood la strewn. Their strong bealmanatoh the squirrels' teeth hi extracting nutri-tious morsels from the fallen keys, and we are glad of the profusion under the vine maples, as thla Is their attrac-tion, m • If they would stay with us tha win-ter through we could almost forgive their departure In spring to the moun-tain forests, where Juniper berries and caterpillars will serve, with the tree • ««<'»• abundant fare for these cone-billed birds who ar* never In want. Th* grosbeak Is the bead of tbe large family of finches.end sparrows which are chiefly eeed eaters, and have developed their wedrenhsned hill, for A&aE a Soup , Badlortbe^ uiir It you want to keep your hair looking lta best. Moat soap* and prepared shampoos contain •«oo< much alkali. This dries the scalp, mska* th* hair brittle, sad ruins It, 'T»ei bast tbtaa- for steady as* : Is Mulslfled eoooaaut on aaaatnoo' (which la pur* sad greeeeleas), and Is better thaf anything els* yon can use. One or two taaaaooafuls will cleanse tha hair and scalp thoroughly.. Simply moisten tba hair with water and ran It In, It makes aa abundance of rich, ereassy lather, which rinses out easily, removjna every particle of dust, din, dandruff and excessive' oil. NThe-balx dries quickly and evenly, and It leaves tbe scalp soft, and tba hair fine and silky, bright, lustrous, fluffy aad easy to Ted eaa get Mulslfled eocoanut en abampoo at any pharmacy, irs very cheap, sad a few ounces ,wtU supply •very member of the family for menttua. (Advt-> MR. OR MRS. DYSPEPTIC Get rid 'of Indigtstfon and Stomach Worries with "Pape's Dtftpepsin" "R<k»Ur <*>«•** pat weak. dhMrd«r«d •toniMhi tn oraep—"really doos" ovar-ooma Indlfeacion. dyap«p*sa. saa, heart-burn and sou mens du« to acid fer-mentation—that— Juat that — make. Papa's Dlapepaln tha larffaat aa l l in* •tomaoh antaold and regulator In tha world. IT what yon eat ferments and turns sour, rou belch gas and eructate undigested root or water; head Is d l i sy and aches; breath foul; toncne coated, remember tha moment "Papa's XMapep-sln** cornea In oontact wi th the atom* ach a l l such distress vanishes. It 's t ruly astonishing-—almost n^arraloua. and the Joy la Its harmlesaness, A box of Pape'a Dlapepaln tablets ooats ao l i t t le s t d ru f stores too. ""WJien birds that are that purnoi ... purely insectivorous have followed their food line further south, the seed* eaters, on berry, cone and fruit, can live In comparative comfort, l i t t le af-fected by cold so lone t u tho seeds hold out JOEBB. UTtmi BSiaCriksiwsl O B S T l When lesista with a cold th trouble is m< SCOT an easily a your I ;et a or nea bnak a, T h e 1 9 2 0 1. AQ-wood Oval Horn , 2. All-record, all-needle TJltoala (Including needles for all " F i f e . t o O P E N - A I R J O T T I N G S By WILDWOOD T ITO ana, tn bv_ Ufelntr th* d a r * work trior* e*a> Hy, nlaxtnof gradually from th* arduous dutlee of epnumar. T n * grain to tjpened,' DM i too ar* colored, seeds ar* spreading according to their character, tb* harvest .to. moving bom*w*rda 80 tha aarveatmeker rwas lat«r. and retiree a Itttl* e*rll*r. It la D e a r l y noon before tb* •ffcots of th* long morning mists b a T * tan** a a d buah and brak* ar* paaaabl*. In th* early boor* a pair of hunts-man -cam* up t b * trail, atop* and voice* ourtousty echoing tn tn* muff-ling re*;. Oted'tn reUa-realatlng khaki •ar]' rubber, they oould bra** tb* dripping fern and ba away In tba deer-track* of th* at lent h i l l * when tha wraitha dlsputeed to r*v*si their ta eiTogoOioi benaOeiai aa It will join wtth th* honey and pollen that It eats, an oooealcnei aphia aleo. The slogan "Bw** the fly** U rood when oarrled out with dleerlmlnation. Byr-pblrta enma are bee-like, but smaller ar* detog mora good than nv Mow It wn* dry. tb* tr*JJ waa threaded br a family party who hl-Inrlously drove silence befor* them. No need for quiet stealth In their hunt, for they w*r* going a-nuttlng. and no. Jollier, healthier gam* extern for young and old than that of gath-ering nuts In September. • • a Tbe boy. of oonraa, ts ahead. He •knows wb*r* they are," and starts eff on many a fata* e*eeot to sapling etrchea that ar* found to be aa tb* &g tree for barrenness, and though bo Is the Oral ta reach tb* banal, and the flrat to go off to another, he 1 leave* plenty b*hJhd for tb* reel. H * who waa on** a boy baa toarnt in Mm v—ara that tba biggest nut* are sot exposed; they Ue uod*r *> leax. that may hang at any angle. Wtth * booked sdok that aavea - much sorambUfig, ha bring* down tb* trap-pie, limb*. looks from the right and than from the left, crowing- to mother and atster that "the boy doesn't know It all yet." They carry th* *ackB, Tha stiff hair* that oover tb* brevet* *r busk* of tba nuts will nleroe th* tender akin of tb* Anger* unless gloves are worn: K la easier as well as eater " bold open the hag while—tb* mi nwnbairs throw In their; pickings. Not without protest ara-the brown-tipped rivalling caJla of **Here's a tbra** e luster" and "I hav* a fourl' th* disgusted squawk of a blue Jay that slowly glides away from the traah. perches Just beyond reach and raises Its crest with every rauoou* protest Her* and th*r* a squirrel obits and charter* la a fraosy of tern-par. Nevdleaal* too. <Tor it stored away lta wtntofe board ov*r a weak ago. and can ma}, epar* the**. OcoastonallyYfemlnIn* aoream re-eorda a swinging oaterplllar. or big brown and yellow spider that la die-covered too eloas to be pleasant. . A floe ormns> of aver green black-berries with abtntng fruit just ready to fall, gives excuse for a balL The bey would rest her* for lunch, but another spot la *ugg*eted with a 00m-fottabl* bank, and when the lunch and party ara conveniently spread, tha real 1 in sun for this location Is shown. Tber* are aeveral stones about, and for clacking the nut*,' The *^trd m tbe buah" la now the bluebird, erbether a local native or on* oesnlag down from further north, can not b* tela, but the I alter Is probably the ease, as the bluebird, the lasull bunting, la found no more on Cb* telegraph wlr**—th* brightest Mt of bio* in feathers that la wen under thee* skies. Ita native home la California* but It would seem to be ervr*plag_ north ward, as Ita occur-rence* In British Columbia are In-creasing, May be keep on creepingt That bright, cheery song, aent forth from the top of a dead branch or lelegrmpb pole, should be beard by ail who lov* blrd-muato. Too highly, pitched to b* called melodious, it la i a trilling, thruntig outburst of glad- < neea that matches the heavenly color, lug-BM-aoug baa not been wound Into tb* Ittaratur* and poetry of our oountry as It baa been In that of England and Boot!and, but ft will come In b m a ft took generation* of aeaonfatlon to bring out the beautlea of merle and mavis, skylark aad nightingale, W* have here equals of tbe two! first in our woodland tXu-oabca, and. If lark and alghtlngal* are peerless, tbe earn* oan be said of oar oat-bird. The moeklng-hlrd of tb* south ts of the same family, and la aald to be oven a finer songster, though for *n* who baa ttstoned enthralled ta tha omt-btrd, this ts dtfOoalt to inmgiaa. * e e F>obabty only few of o* koow tb* real song of thla bird. Many are mistaken evao In tb* bird. Our towheea. mewing as they hunt over the failing leaves, are usually called rat:birds, and those who know the real thing seldom hear from It any other note than tbe nasal "wow" of its scolding, hence tbe name. To me, hearing It for the first Urn*, the melody came with a thrill or wonder. It came from a dense thicket f wild roea, willow and "hardback' splrea, and tl took an hour of patient creeping throngh that labyrlothe of shrubbery girdling the bend of brook, before I saw and knew for certainty the owner of that marvel lous voice. He waa plain of coat, a* the beat vocalists usually are. dull grey of bank and lighter grey of breast, the only other color being a dash of dark red 00 the under tall coverts. He prefers to be beard, not aeea, end from soma higher branch tn lying thicket of Impenetrable bush, wbere his neet Is placed, be win make the little wood quiver with encheriD'ng melody/ Not a set song, perhaps, like that of the mocking-bird, bis music Is "part of ail that he has met," and he remember* all the best Fortunate Indeed Is that musical soul born tn grow up where such blrd-mualo abound a. The two Jungles I know of. where this singer oomes every year, will be visited fra= quently tn the springtime, .whether or no I get to the hills and the prairies. j CANIDATOBENOT BY NEW PREFERENCE Many Supplies for Crown Colonies to Be Bought Here. By fXXXH MaOQCfstnTgOTL LONDON, Oct. lU-C*n*da wlU bene, fit from the new bat very substantial form of Imperial preference which t* being pu,t tnlo effect by the oolonlal office In connection with tbe adminis-tration of the crown ooloolea. In the paat wbeo supplies were need-ed eurh aa rolling stock, talegrapn and telephone material and various other Items Included In tbe huae tnd> rue «ent In periodically far government needs In these possessions .efforts ware pri-marily made to obtain ths supplies in the United Kingdom. If this waa unsuccessful the | eminent would look to any other q ter. vsry often to the United States, hi oh d urine the war was In a post* tten to obtain many such contract*. The colonial office has now Instructed Ihe administrations when It le Im-possible tn "obtain supplies la firttaln to get them In Canada. Jn ths case of the ether dominions the colonial office endeavoring to encourage reciprocity In the matter of granting contracts for such supplies aa rolling stock for South Afrlra undsr which head Canada recently supplied forty locomotives us the Hrltleh offers ware unfavorable both to price and delivery. las-SB. m. Connolly of tbe OX T. P . ket office has been advised by the white Star Une that It 1» not ex-pected ths British strike will Interfere wtth Ita sailing* Creates New, Firm Flesh. Sfr~en*riL ar^ in — T w Weeks' Timi-ii Many Instates. •Mtos-inioephete Should be Preeorlbed hy Beery Doctor and Used In •vary gfospltal—Says Editor of T h y si-EOPLE SHOULD TAKE BITRfl-PHOSPHATE . a plain bl triphosphate" fe the edvtoe of phyelolane to thin, delicate, aervoue people who lack vim. energy and nerve force, and there seems to be ample proor of the efficacy of this pre-paration to warrant the recommend* tlon. Moreover. If " tounUeee preparatK which are oontlnually being advertised toe of making thin people f o r t h e purpe'su . fleshy, d e v e l o p i n g arms, neck a n d aeme peoples teeth are -not what Phosphate, which Is inexpensive a they used to be." . , sold by most all druggists und guamntee of satisfaction or money bust, and replacing ugly hollows end angles by the soft curved lines of health and beauty,-there are evidently thousands of men and women w" keenly feel their exoeestve thinness. .Thlnnese and weakness are usually do* to starved nervsa Our bodies nsed more phosphate than ta contained tn modern foods. Physicians claim there Is nothing- thet will supply this de-Bolencv so well *s the organlo phos^ phate known among druggists as bltro-— — — ' * - end Ii der 1 back. By feeding the nerves directly and by supplying the body cells with the neceeaary phosphoric food elements bltro-phosphate quickly produces • welcome transformation In ths appear-ance; the Increase In weight frequent-T b * haaale in thai tooaltty ar* suf-fering from another visitation, that of tb* "lane bug." EhmepUng butter^ flks* and moth*, with tbelr besntl-foJty-eoaled wtoge, few loaacta oan be called handsome according to l w being as ton Iqhjng, bug la really pretty, and the further It ai magnified through a tens, the prettier It become* its wing* are th* finest of net-work, dainty and deli-cately woven; lta minute body la shiny black, with epaulette* of fine white meanee on either side of Its t thorax. On* other grace It has: It - refrain* from the production of thoser malodorous glands that distinguish so' many bug* ' Nothing mora can ba said In l u favor, for It thrive* on the leef-Jutce* ol the tree it Inhabit* and though It baa done no .risible dam-age, aa Ita cousin the aphis, this ta only because Its numbers ar* leas. • • • Thee* plant*llc* ar* having their -day*'-lo- this - season,- but- their en e-mles, though slower In recruiting, ara swelling th* ranks that close upon them. Lady-beetlea war* never so numerous; next year, under ordi-nary clrromstanoee, they will be strong enough to keep th* aphides In check. Both larva* and pupa* ot these beetle* ar* found on the leaves.1 While still a grub. It Is busy "clean-ing up" the Uca, and engaged lp th* same good jworfc la another grub, a atnaO flat green ereatura. blind, wtth a very little head, that neverthelees . .carriea a pair-of-jewe that ar* ffttaT to all aphides It oan reach. Thla 1* the larva of th* eyrphua fly, a yel-low-banded fly always on tba rosea Of gUl e r bloomw. vary much like -a-"yeUowJaeket** wasp, but smaller. It Hut 7»//*a>e# D*ris, roerhfif krr re trjtruna with B1TK0 rTiUi fUATB. tayn "it it rtmutrkabtt whai tl did fpr me, Afttr 9 fn 4*yt J »#f«e I* rv«eie my ttnngth, ftli ful, -f Itf*, MI «H* is tUip lumnity c*d /till* tr*m\,U> st»m*d U du-, ' rewh-s fftmttdt in "  'if'. efl M» orrrer. f*ur en tMlkt. and lack of energy, which nearly ways accompany excessive thinness, soon disappear, dull e r e e become brt#*.i and pale cheeks glow- with ths bloom nerve < l lnlcal tests made In St. Hatherlna's H o s p i t a l , N. V. <1. showed that two patients gained In weight t l a n d IT pnundn. respectively, t h r n u n h the a d -m r n l s t r s t l o n of t h i s organic phosphate; , » . v ~ . w « . — _ v U V H « , w AIWS-IHW b o t h p a t l e n t s c l a i m Ihey have not felt phats ts ananrpassed for relieving nor-an srrong a n d well for ths past twelve vonsneos. sleeplessness end general * . I w e a k s e s s , owing to tta remarkable m ! 1 « *"**•• 1 , n 1 w e , « " h t step c a r r i e s fleeb-rrowlng properties, ' f perfect h e a l t h . P h y s i c i a n s a n d hospH«Ls..y.veryw^ere. ar¥"how recogrilarng Its m e r i t s by Its use In ever Increasing q u a n t i t i e s , F r e d e r i c k K o l l e . M . p . . e d i t o r uf N e w Y o r k I h y n l r U n s ' " W h o ' s U ' h o . " s s y s : " H l t r o - 1 ' h o c p h a t e s h o u l d b« p r e s c r t h e d by every d i r t or a n d used hi every horn f its) to Increase s t r t n g t h a n d nerve ores a n d to e n r i c h Ihe b l o o d . " J o s e p h D. 1 t a r r l r a n , f o r m e r V i s i t i n g Special ist to N o r t h E a s t e r n ni*r<>ns*-tory, •>»>*•• "L.et thn*« who ere weak, t h i n , n e r r n n s . s n a e m l c o r r u n - d o w n , take a n a t u r a l , u n a d u l t e r a t e d s u b -stance sui-h as httro- ( .hi .spH.i le and y n u w i l l s o o n s-e e«nte «•!.•(.Iwlildg results In the l n . r e a s e or r:srve e n e r r y . s t r e n s t h of hody a n d m i n d a n d power o f e n d u r a n c e . " B l t r o - l ' h o s p h a t e Is made e n t i r e l y o f the o r g a n i c p h o e p h s t * o t n r M u r d re* t*>rred n> tn the N s l l o n a l S t a n d a r d P l s -pensatory as b e i n g a n s i c e l l e i i t tonlo a n d n e r v i n e a n d a p r e n a r H t l n n w h i c h ba  recently a c q u i r e d c o n s i d e r a b l e r e p -u t a t i o n In the treatment o f n e u r a s -thenia. T h e s t a n d a r d of e i c e l l e n o e , s t r e n g t h and p u r i t y of Its e ' l b m a n r e Is beyond quest ion, f o r every B l t r o - P h o e -phate tablet ts m a n u f a c t u r e d in skrtet accordance w i t h Ihs tr. P. P h a r m a -copoeia test r e q u i r e m e n t * . F l l t r o - l ' h o s * phate Is therefore not a patent m e d i -cine and s h o u l d not be c o n f u s e d w i t h any nf the nncret n o s t r u m s , s o - c a l l e d tonlrs of widely a d v e r t i s e d " c u r e - e l l s . " OAUTIOIf l — a l t b o o g h B l t T O - T b o * -Klri, -/.K . . m o r * * * * >«» eig also s g  t e I* should lot uent-j w i t h It a general Improvement In tbe be need by anyone who doeajutt^lsatra P ,^Jii^th. , . t -^sM4Hiet»eiM»i- • alespls^n^ftrpttt-OTl-nesh.-' - " " - ' " Tadv^T' ma TIT fflrvn n m A i n n n C a n a d i a n N a h o - E D M O N - - T O R O N OPEN-AIR JOTTINGS By WILDWOOD A O.M It oca la UIU pa. par Mm* daya' a* a alUtad (h*t ft mu wu "making; * ' fair Unjoin a br aklpplna; fcavrtMrrj I UaJ-k" from *i»i>t> of tha law pLaoaa I: when any Quantity of tha irtM ftra Ufi." • "Tha *»JUri whtft II w*«*a IA grow . fn Or.fon •nd Washington h**o long i Loan claarod or ail bul a faw traaa" I "It la oftan tha WMUFUI cuaatorn of , cbfldrao «p cul v/T Iba bt/t only 4VO ' ao lh*v can raa.cn Kid IMM (ha Ira* alandlng 10 dio: it la muchrnor* I *ron<»»lc*t, *J'C* tfia Iraa mu*l dla to cut It dowft »od akin. II | oil in* war up." Ha***, thaat, U tha doom of an*, of •ur native iraaa Oregon and Waah-J ti.flr.ii grovea are' dtnurlanl of tha ini1»om, raxoara, but Ihla aounria no •>r ri I tiff (ft ihnao who ara ahtpplnK l<a irk at "ramunarallva url,.. ft./J-ran ara waa'aful In only taking all thay ran roach Apparently no guid-ing hajid la ahowlng tharo how to «'ilh*r lod*v •» that 11.era ahall ha Lark for lumurrow, Traaa ara l«ft lifting to dla, and |ha only prolaat (la In II. at lh« Lark, nf II,*, ul>f'*>r U not tir«u>>it In to tha " Th/aaiaoad oatlnotion af tba hlnf of I flah la caualraj alarm to I ba park ara. Vr»t*d iDterrata cannot bo alayad In trialr taklnga. mo blant* La laid on Iba govarritiitnl ha tuft.*! taa. Now tha rtvara of HI bar) a and lha North, whin rialural condition* aim pra.all. la*to with lha olivary nurd**, aitd whare . tha hatch la turned out aaJl|r Into lb* natural *tr«airta lha yumif try f*Jn abllHir to (aii <u>ra of Ihrnisalvra, Ni>| unlr do wixMan troughs deprive lha flafi of oo*ar and br •hair artificial pro v I at ana d» awar wttti tl<a ne*d fur cwvar. prav»nttD« lha neuraaa>)> Iralnltig for aef *ly. but many '(irnlUli In foi«d may l>a b apt out uf dial 1<"> 'HKO «al»r. tt fin* \,rn, round Out lately In flexi-le (ul I luit vrf via I tun muel It* lhi>.an Into I It* (rout ti rrania aach y rnr m ati|>pl* lha tiiln.ile ifilin»lnil,« on »hlrti (hiiia gmha and water Inh-i-l a llv* I hat aia-Uia rix>.| uf >>"i>g flllino, I'oaalt.lf a hint for lha It. r|nii uf our aalriiuii halrliaila* I* hara, In any r.ia. it n a mailer uf ilnubt' •i.fii.h for luniorn-a* »• Hrtf an. .all .I'i-lv' hi. !•>-— dla edmtilrd thai mi* tit of; appear Thara ara l hmi n.l» of angWa li Ihla t.n.*1i|.-a l'"le>. »tul lli"i* ft th' rlit.a I»U-I laka a data liak.l l.«f..n Iwu vallaya I tha Iwi i.fll. II wnilrt I .tiTli'il ".Itli lllll" llfWI. • irilH a l.rtlar bark pravail*. TDa Tnflana ih, ,,r»ri>l >oh }ual at .rl.arr,'1 i Iraa 'o 1  If ih-wr„i r> J W»UK >alt.ly In IClltf i 0 lUKii-nri of lha wnrn rh »lrl|.a :t Hi a prwl'i 11.air waiila and al'>« rnvr. anrl II la poaatl l.nrl In |ilh*r It l>y 1 1 ha<« <h- t.f..d.i.-l ,r*aa wall anion tea i.f ...J r,r,. y»l ft.-'ia la In thai ila»"a tt»v«l to lha i1»«lal rait rvl.1-r.raa ..f a •ulrf'a "^ 't'* rtp,»!ri«tl"n1'or*n*ili' i.HTfjf.t fi-r-Ma l!-'".«" in 'i'ha""..,'i'.a'i h«r.1.-tiM .'..in-' . • v KAMLOOPS FAIR TO BE BIG STOCK SHOW ".xllillill'MI Will IV 0|irri.-cl '(III I IK'M l.lV Kri Olil I ..... I.....I....1 • "1 1 1 I., ,,. M ... A I... " .... 1. .,..,.,,....' ..... C A S T O R I A For Inlanla aad^ OilMraa ! In Uae For Over 30 Yaara ; .•;r.„" A I - . T " Hl«i>«. Employment Scrviccj of Canada Iir.fr. «i. TOWBJ aaaaa lal«HU4 la •»«• •• • O. m. KIT or Tltwaj Ift liuahman, *• • COOI) CONDITIONS i PKKVAII. TIIROUCIIODT NOItTTIKHN SIXTION In this one new hig number f»rtrr II. ICyno Hnpci t I Inches Hohrrl W. Cliamlirrn Jamn^  Ollvnr CurwtKid Arthur Mfimria W(M:1IO lU.nll King Moir.tllli Nlcliiilson lrrank K. A.lunia Ju.U Itiiyla Keiinrfli I.. It.itioita I'arrrval fllhlwin AlliflM 1'aynnn Tarlmna Kiln Wlirrlrr Wll<(.« 1'io.lrilc AinoM KuiiiMiar Hurrtadn lrhhcr llowunl Oian.llci t^ lntntr •Jiiincs M'inl|_'<.iiiiri y I'lit^ 'i; I'. X. I..ycii.lr..l.rl W. T. llcn.L |. H...II Wllll.ini:i W. 1). *il(iv«us I ,rn ('milry (ri^dH i^^w-/j^yy^jJ-^ /3- /<^n«__ )UVER DAILY PROVINCE " A BOBTHAM NEVVSfAPER Sunday-Bnd"holidays-at the southeast corner of Hastings ani re. In the City of Vancouver. Province of British Columbia b tha feuths^ Company Limited. 1 rEB. T.UESpAY, JIARG y Talks Noiisense-I 28, 1960 aribaldi Park paper-told the fortnight ago oyer the de-it of the park "g board with It has done*1 if lands, Mr. he Legislature lilly statement administration )aldi. ey for parks irposes? The of course, and for the n>Nt (seal year, they are pu tip-S105-millt ms—a hundred aT5nflre'~f3i every man, w>mup and child in tho prov-ince. Does I lrKcnney'think anybody will believe li at out of so magnificent a Iran'gertrTroTjtrltx! Impo'sslGI few thousands for Garibaldi? Or docs he care whether.he'is believed or not? And who appropriates the money for parks? Who dither than Mi". Kenney himself? All the minister's statement means, then, is that he doesn't want to devote any money to Garibaldi. It would be interesting to: know why he has taken this stand. The real reason has not been divulged. K h a l a k u k t i k i l By,. Leased-Wlr» Prdvlncp, Br HERB 8URPLI3 OTTAWA, — KtJaoyLmeydm Titigengii Jnuinnangmuntis the title of an illus-trated' "manual issued recently by the de* pnrtnMntjgf_ jrejjSUlccs- and ..rirvclpomcnt. Tn English it meani. "The Book of Wis-donv tor Eskimo." / This, incidentally, ii the ' second cditioa The first, issued in 1947, proved, very popular with' Eskinip. The Xfiyiatd Eskimo syllables (strikingly • similar tc shortftartoTchafaclers.). a'nd' Eskimo writ-ten in Roman characters. Almost «veLy problem that the Es-kimo- is- likely-**) encounter in. his- dally" life—how to feed new babies, how to speed family f liowances, the best method of cleaning a ifte—ia dealt with. Illus-trations assist flhe instruction. The stress is, of course, on health. Tho handbook' jells where sickness comes from, how it .spreads and, of course, tha tmp^lahce" of ^Velar^ iness in preventing sickness. "Ihuiliogonie puyalo iligiek;*' says the '"stateness end' dirt""'. The-Vincouver Dairy WrlgM, 1050. Oo It If They Want T o smelly China flats and de-plajsground- in ore encounter-tas on a num-. a culvert for eccnt park for xi^jnfikes no t domain!. Mil as Vancou-fford to let -a ;reek continue nit-offers one MW-of-oureloV evidential dis-aim to special ;ly one small c, a portion of Pleasant could use another play area, Strathcona I Park, but the city took Strathcona for' its City Hall site and never made restitution. Vancouver cijivt close its eyes to its obligation t<. put a culvert over such an insanitary eyesore as China Creek and provide at ldast one decent park and play-ground for Mount Pleasant. Q u i h h l i n j T ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ over-the o\\mti^hlf)^ofihewcreeM)*dii3-)~Make "ire * Animals Of The World-Arise!' .1 .ago Mount just another way of avoiding the issue. Tho-City-Gouneil now-has more than $100,000 bequeathed by the late Jonathan Rogers-for a~ park in the- FairviewrMount Pltasant awn HnffshT>ultfiw^ aUy^ ""u^ e it for park purposes; but hot for any sew-erage improvements at China Creek. •: lrra-f27-milHon budget ifc can surcljr find enough money to fix up China Creek, at least temporjarily. Aldermen , are "Khalakukt khaituk iglumi"—"No one must spit in tie iglooZl .. The instnicions'on how to treat frost-bite are of equal value to white men. "If face, nose ]or *ara get frozen, "do not-) rub," the Eskimo ia told. "That will make it worsej At first sigh of freezing, cover the part and leave alone. . . if you do freeze your feet, put them in cold water until,the front is gone. Do not rub, frozen pail Is clean: Boil seal oil and wrap the foot'. Keep the covering loose. Be sure that only""very clean hand* are_used. to dress the frozen foot: Change dressing every, day." nstf . .^_Jowanct_ are lengthy, but.oiirr Mt ot advice is par-1 tlcularty purjgent "A few Eskimos," warns the booklet, "seem to think that because they';haya- a - eMit'..'on 'familyj allowances, thgy do-not have to work ariy more. This-ie wrong." Emphasis ir also pla. •X*t03E HUHAM C R 6 A T U R E S Aug pj.»*rN>«G TO USE vjvilCH WlUV Wip£~ ovj-r A U L L I F E - 0 « I O M R 6 A « T H BUT I nigh J-.t, « that l««rc menu thii to B«-ubf« And i eartaia A L O N G petted places if they really want to. * t It Does T o Your Lungs L Y , the city's n us about the. >y" we should hp amnnnto advisory com-frorh a smoke ealthler place" jronto's air is noke particles th* committee-isn that-only- 52jiercent of "pTiJiifs7T»n^tic|. furnaces arid firemen: Indicate life in i». Is healthk|r In the smogJ othesllnesf but ioing- to their Jghtget a lot ing smoke, fig^leamed by ilble-ter^th«H^»-SiTioke-i)r«—j ve(ition has become a probiem-for--the whole community, not just_the operators of big buildings Snd sawmills. If "fre are really going to do away with our unnecessary smoke. Joe Doakes in; Falrview will have to be just as care-The suggestion .we might start out 'smoke prevention week:1 in Vani-_ - fa i i^ i iou^„But . . tho^s ize - -o f -prp^^n^sug^ ests a smoke pteyention why and how gatrie becomes scarce and Eskimos go; hungry. The Eskimo la also instructed on planning to* periods of scarcity. -1 "It i* much better to"have a credit with the trader to' use in rxir-yearsrthHrr to'go in debt to the trader,^-sayt- thfr Book-Of WisdoUL : -rrr: First Welfare State : ( (Joha^ ouM DuiM ln-*n-»d(lrP.i..^  ^ STlfihn Political. Sclence-itttocJatlon.) * EVEBnxSK. In his "Life bf Lincoln, ^points out that slavery was power* fully" supported as. a welfare and soclaj BrftrVfl'EBWOOD A GLACIER has passed away. Though--no tears are shed because of it, the passing"1s~6t' »njgrwT|ioImany.. padtiru-~ ^ ^ ~ ^ h Q « who have crdned it. when 'climbing' among the peaks of the lovely Garibaldi Park. S&elf aglacler was distinct enough to have a name; being part of the Helmet glacial field, long ago. According to Mr. jrVrn.1 Taylor, a specialist among the separation was made about a quarter of • century ago by gradual melting. The siiowfield above iti on Panorama Ridge, that fed the glacier, still -persists on the high slopes, but is no longer pressed into ice,.. • -• .. - . . - . - . ^ ,w_.It J|s. natural to give a' name to a fJWJPi-feWfli o r ey^ n jt^n4ow rtLwith-*-personality. In^e^pfienTT mounialns. and rivers weimay r » w . w . « « , ourselyes top Will not b«^dafts*d agooo^tiiiiror hbor. btie^aterast'Ors wit I addrtu-el-lkt' M fstttra, sifrasd aad^aoaVrtssd'. wUvth '•' —~"»'xA::St d- ra tAts-eoi Ikt writers': •urToawt-^ ^ p l M W ^ y e a r a a ^ i W ' . ' ; m- D « « . tAttm viu..(s :: .n^VaiMlissi:; 'jThoir-were fed-and-rJirrt-for^frorrrj h!r«i_tp_the wbrWng_Derfofl..,and Ironv, mataaer of their Tives, expense.- They aifaTthe owner's far hsfjpter than" piMBBJTy of Europe. for a-fnoment were Southern fled by the spectre of a frTefia-ia=ot^ wanfcan<t-<latvatinn, Aneq lelr years of productive labor, Id not. be ..discharged, as were 'rers In •Pre*' countries when ^as poor Ko" matter, whether was good or-had; the market Slow, Ifie slaveholder had to I* Negroes the « r n e _ j t all _T|je_ptoponent3 of emancipation never. ppa^jjMtfbtm* ara^enti^tiieV dia -aTesfltd"torhavaltfe; sonw are holy.- if therefore volcanoes "die.!l and rivers fail, the passing out of a river of ice may be marked with sol-emnity. O-deem it fit-ting? that T calm .waa-xaisedb|ta i^ts > iKemory at tha_, spot where iMt^ as last seen. Alpib-hills as ice and snow to keep the sum-mer streams in- flow ara lessening year by year,. - • If statistics over serve a useful-pur-pose it is when they warn of a reduc-tion in our natural resources. For lum-ber, for coal, for game, for fish, we may find substitutes. -There is no substitute for water. Yet our cities grow in magnitude, our , w demand more water. Wie have more'"' a v * *° lawns to sprinkle, more pools for swim-ming, and-our ..weapons ol sanitation are water and more water; .and the supply is falling. u Th*.r ,cajrn..„tQ...comrnemorste... Shelf Glacier was built, of stones from Its last ''moraine.'1 Moraines are piles qf_rocky d*1SrlB^T6Ug1rtnrdwn by Ihe" sctfUrtnir| ping nf the fllader-as^t-descenfia.-Theg^ j scrapinga are _cast^ aide or left at .bends, or hslungs "£s • river of. water leaves gravel banksj~on Ha-way.'-There are many moraines from the coast mountains about Vancouver where towns and furma now cover them. The ice that brought them receded ages ago, and ia forgotten. What must be remenv of respectvi^ 'r the tfrandedr of the rocks and snows, ^he high ._lajces and fee .fhey traverse, or they would-not climb. But the disappearance of Shelf Gla-cier bus a significance low^r down. It has an importance to every citizen who turns a faucet; It Is an omen to every industrialist The stores packed in the Winter ' s Now' f\ I heat And th T long t Beside i Also s ThtThi. Give, mt Til show The fe — 1 I thin) So lei ni Anywher Spring t; I feel Proba: bosstlnf « n buy. Tha ffir tfey ckildrt tht MtOV* noeent by KERRI: If dog . Then But out Too i Have y. guys whe ward of t They t "and catted The nurse "SButb one "o? thi "~ "Jusf-p ,-"We_ use-customers.' - - T e r r patient. "} Poker the pot go between th .ti»r.j»JjlW<ll feraalBg. ana tna lceTiTrheMiht furtrier and further t«ck. , . : - -S ! I ^ :g3ac3^ t1 i a i ^^ ysara.ago-isl-gone.-^ aome-tlacienr-ara meltirij^Jai^^ruui^UwraH>utthey-aVe Angeles goes three hundred miles for it. The .rainy coasl;area has "plenty." but already "running taps nightly in winter unimpr are restricted.. When the *eU runs dry the water is missejl aajri. u.lvery. old proverb. Water fthat,baa pan »«'under ttw bridjf* to "the M''&a^W>'--lii*&» :bacai--HUTia»ts Ud.tottttfn, flitrmrten i ' aeiVa»fci^|,.;dr«aa!; 'both-v,. art _ _^ What Abdut g i ^ j r - 4 » » *o e ° n ^ m « n t The D»lb4tl I Ita.ejDMllent e4torial.-Woi«' :} we" mias.and i thejurreni '---•Take ~; shmrted-thi transfussior the fur th tnrti ~ arose Thai Lo, t»* AfHtwi Tdtgram,-d Let's Ub ' With The selfli --—That-1 


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