As I walked back to Bruce’s an hour ago, a woman came out of her apartment building with her little dog. “It’s here!” she exclaimed. “Can’t you just feel it? It’s here.” What she meant is summer. It’s March 31, and in Vancouver, it’s summer – 17 degrees. Chris got out his shorts. The man downstairs was bare-chested in the sun. Everyone is gardening. It’s hot and glorious. Lucky moi.
But my dear friend is trying to kill me. I knew it’d be a test; his hobbies are cooking and walking, both of which he does for hours a day. He can walk for five hours with no problem. I’m not unfit, but in comparison with him, I’m a mushy wimp. Today, we walked from his place in the West End to the Van Dusen Botanical Gardens, an hour uphill in the sun. By the time we got there, I was hot and bushed, so we had lunch and then explored this gorgeous place.
View as we crossed the Granville Street bridge
The Van Dusen Gardens: cascades of cherry blossoms, magnolias, azaleas, rhodos. Stunning.
The daffs are nearly finished; these are the last few. Look at that moss. The greens are spectacular.
My energizer bunny companion in his shorts. After our visit, I took my weary legs home by bus. He stayed to commune more with the garden and then walk home. Amazing man.
Last night I went to the opening of “Good People,” an Arts Club production at the Stanley, a grand old theatre. Oh it was like old home week in the lobby, all kinds of theatre people I haven’t seen for decades, actors – Peter Anderson, one of the best actors in the country – directors, designers, former boyfriends, several people I did a cross-country, months-long tour with and know MUCH too well. The play is extremely good – about how much luck is needed for people from poor neighbourhoods to get out of them – and the production excellent too. A treat; enjoyed every minute.
Chatted with old friend Bill Millerd, the artistic director of the Arts Club who now runs just about every theatre in this town. As we talked, I was very glad that now, I do not need anything from him – not a job, not recognition, nothing. It was not always so.