My mother loved colour. So much so, that at the memorial service we held for her, we honoured her memory, not by wearing black, but by wearing colour. She dyed lush silk scarves, created batik hangings, and played with watercolour.
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| Apple blossom, Batik hanging by my mother, Brenda Weaver |
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| Silk scarves dyed by my mother, Brenda Weaver |
The year-round colours of Victoria would have enchanted my mother, but especially those of spring. I have been thinking of her as I have taken photos of colourful scenes in this diverse urban area. This post is a Mother's Day offering to her memory.
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| Colourful mural at Gonzales Beach |
Born in England, my mother emigrated with my father after the second World War. He had trained as a pilot for the RAF in Canada, and had a taste of life in Canada. They lived most of their lives in Calgary, a far contrast to the mild English climate which would have grown the verdant flowers my mother enjoyed so much.
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| Rhododendrons at Abkhazi Garden on Fairfield Road |
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| Another shade of orange, Abkhazi Garden |
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| And two more lush rhododendrons, also from Abkahazi Garden |
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| Cherry tree petals. |
Cherry trees are abundant in England. I grew up with a poem by Houseman which was one of my mother's favorites. In it the poet is triggered by cherry blossoms to talk about the transitory nature of life - and catching the joy of our moments. The poem has spoken to me many times over the years.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
I recall visiting my mother's sister in England when I was 18. We walked to the greengrocer to buy turnip greens and loose tea. This was a new experience for me, coming from sprawling Calgary with its dependence on cars and big grocery stores. The scene below reminded me of that time.
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| Colours at a neighbourhood grocery store, Fernwood |
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| Fernwood is full of colour, such as this house with an amazing mural. |
As well as creating batik, my mother loved ballet, theatre, and the plays of Shakespeare. She was an ardent peace activist and worked many years in the peace movement in Calgary. She would have resonated with the power pole below, which reflects years of posters for events, plays and perhaps even peace marches.
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| The history of many posters is recorded on this power pole |
Graphic murals were not so common during my mother's time, but she would have enjoyed some of what I have found in Victoria.
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| Mural on a day care centre near Cook Street |
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| Installation at condos along Erie Street |
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| Mural at Spiral Beach. Part of this was painted over by another artist a few days later, to my disappointment... but that is also the beauty of the ever-changing urban landscape. |
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| Another mural at Spiral Beach.... the Greek god Poseidon? |
I have inherited my love of trees from my mother. Towards the end of her life, when she was confined to a hospital room with a broken leg, she sketched many versions of a tree outside her window. Below is a batik hanging she did many years before that.
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| Birches. Batik hanging by Brenda Weaver. |
I am grateful to the many gifts my mother gave me -- especially her love of colour, art and words. She would have been 99 on May 11. I miss her.
