Vancouver autumn

The rains have returned and winter's moving in, bringing with it darker days and plenty of cloud. The cranes on Burrard Inlet were shrouded with mist when I awoke this morning, and as I write this a bank of fog is laying over the city. Autumn still has some life in it yet, however; the trees seem poised to keep their colours for a few days.


This weekend was full of activities that have become part of my experience of Vancouver each fall: the annual apple festival at the University of British Columbia; stocking up on a few books for the months ahead; and red wine.

The apple festival is always a good experience, and I typically spend most of my time mingling with people at the BC Fruit Testers' Association display. It boasts upwards of 200 apples, all of them grown around Southern B.C. This year, peoples' questions focussed largely on where to find some of the more obscure varieties of apples. Although several dozen varieties are available by the bag in the parking lot, varieties like Ontario are less widely distributed. (My first choices were largely sold out this year, so I settled for Rosu de Kluj, Snow, Spencer and a newer variety from France, Tentation.)

A visit to the Vancouver Public Library's book sale yielded some treasures, including Canada: A Year of the Land (1967; reprinted 1969 and featured in Devil's Artisan 63) and Let's Cook the Chinese Way, a guide to Chinese cooking.

Published by a Victoria, British Columbia trading company in 1964, Let's Cook the Chinese Way provides insight into what was locally available in terms of Chinese food at the time, as well as a glimpse of contemporary perceptions of Chinese cooking. An earnest little volume, it highlights the economic and dietary benefits of not just eating Chinese food but "cooking like the Chinese do" (to quote the introduction).

Rounding things out and helping stave off the darkening days was a 2001 Sumac Ridge Cabernet Sauvignon made from grapes grown on the Black Sage Road in the South Okanagan.

Practicum

It's harvest time, and many wine writers take pride in mentioning that they were able to help out at a vineyard or winery. Harvesting other kinds of fruit doesn't have quite the same cachet, but it's still a worthwhile exercise if you want first-hand appreciation for what's required to get your food from farm to table in the best possible shape.

This past weekend, I took advantage of a neighbour's pear tree to find out why tree fruits are such demanding crops to harvest.


Without proper equipment let alone pertinent orchard health and safety training, I set about stripping our friend's tree of fruit, garnering about a bushel in an hour. The work went quickly once I got the hang of it, but several points were immediately obvious:

1) You need the right technique. The fruit should come off the tree easily without your losing your grip on it, or a handful of other fruit coming down with it. A gentle twisting while holding the fruit snugly in one's hand is appropriate.
2) Having a bag for collecting harvested fruit is useful. This reduces stretching on the part of the labourer and potential loss of good quality fruit through clumsiness. The shoulder bag can be emptied, but you get more done at a stretch as momentum builds.
3) It's important to work with your body, rather than stretch it and risk injury. I didn't injure myself, but the temptation to twist too much to get some extra fruit without moving the ladder was always there. Add in a shoulder bag, and the torque on the spine could have produced interesting results.
4) Use a suitable ladder. A ladder that you have to move too often or which can't be planted firmly on the ground is a threat. Go too far up, especially with a shoulder bag, and you create further opportunity for injury as the ladder may become top-heavy. It's also more awkward to back down the steps.

Harvesting grapes is fun stuff, but picking pears was a good reminder that harvesters -- many of them migrant workers getting paid for their efficiency -- face significant challenges. Moreover, the number of pears we dropped made our efforts to ensure decent fruit made it to our friend's kitchen almost heroic. Still, it's done every year and it's hard not to appreciate the experience a good worker brings to the task.

Our reward was some fresh fruit for dinner that night and, after some processsing, a gallon of golden fruit laid up for the winter ahead.

Making connections

A friend with an interest in jazz music -- she's a singer, and voice teacher -- remarked last night how difficult it is to find people to make music with in Vancouver. I agreed, having had a similar experience trying to find people to make music with even on a casual basis. Others have made similar observations to me, so it seems a pretty common phenomenon. As one woman told Pieta Woolley a few years ago for Vancouver's Georgia Straight, "People in Vancouver, they're all in their own little scene. ... It's about acceptance. If you're in a scene, like the music scene or the arts scene, you're automatically accepted, whether you're a 'poseur' or you're really into it." Or, as my friend said, I should just get out to the open-mike nights if I want to perform and strut my stuff.

It sounds good, but to play with others requires more than just showing up. I've been there, done that. What's harder to do is to engage with other people, be part of something more than your own show. It's about making connections that expand the creative circle.

During an interview I did this past summer for the next issue of Amphora, a small thrice-yearly journal I edit, a local book designer remarked that many of her students are busy strutting their stuff in the hope of being the next rock star. Design for them is about standing out rather than being part of a broader community that will influence them and shape the impact they have on the world through their work. Being the next rock star designer, with its fame and moment of glory, is what it's all about.

Something more than performance is required, however. There's something more to playing with others than simply being one of a number of performers at the mic on open-mic night, something more to real impact than being a sensation on account of your work. My summer interview sees her work standing in a tradition of book design extending back centuries, one from which she continues to learn even as she applies it to new, award-winning projects. Similarly, the Greek poet Odysseas Elytis told Sam Hamill that any real poet needs "an audience of three" -- two friends, and a third person whose interest in the poet's work confirms that it has transcended the boundaries of the poet's own immediate circle.

One of the hopes I have for my own writing is that it isn't just performance, that it does find an audience beyond those predisposed to appreciate it, maybe that new relationships -- professional, personal, it doesn't matter which -- come to be because of it. Good work should contribute to the community, however we define that.

Are we rock stars, or stars giving light to others? The two aren't mutually exclusive, of course, but my hunch is one star will shine longer than the other.