It's been stormy here off and on for a week or two. A lot of ferries have been cancelled, power outages, rainfall warnings and many indoor days. This is winter on the West Coast. It hits the islands especially hard, or anywhere that relies on the ferry, like here. You have to consider what you'd do if the infrastructure keeping you fed and warm should fail, if only for a week or two. Aside from being in a high-risk earthquake area, we rely on the ferries so much. A lot of the time in the winter they can't dock because of high swells and wind. It's usually okay here, because we're pretty sheltered, but we've already had a couple of power outages. So, amidst our crazy schedules, we're also trying to adapt and prepare for winter, something we haven't had to think of much living in cities for so long.

There are some items we've stocked up on:
beeswax candles
flashlights
camping stove
cast iron pans
fire wood

There are some things we still need:
more of everything
matches
batteries
a store of easily cooked "emergency" food
non-cordless phone
back up water (the water stores eventually go dry when the power is out)
old pots and pans for fire cooking

Meanwhile, we've been battling the ultimate West Coast winter problem: mould. Even living in Victoria I've had some bizarre mould encounters, and it rains so much less there. There was the orange shelf fungus I found beside my bed in the Rainbow House (to which my guy roommates replied, oh yah that's where the little white mushroom used to be) and the completely moulded underside of one of Alex and I's mattresses (never put a mattress directly on the floor!). Also, just in general, how a loaf of bread would mould almost instantly in a cold, damp house. I'm sure I have some other scarring mould stories that I've just blocked out of my mind.
Alex said something the other day that really stuck with me. I think he was just making a philosophical comment about life everywhere, but on a literal level it seemed particularly poignant here in BC. He said that we're all just constantly fighting against decay but that decay is nature. Here, it almost seems like our houses are being engulfed by nature, especially in the winter. Almost nothing you do can stop it. Our house has been almost completely redone in the last couple years, we don't have that much stuff to constrict air flow, we keep the heat on, we have new windows and so on. But we still find mould, pink, green, and, unfortunately, black. It's just surface mould, but it's a big job to maintain it. It seems like it can appear in one damp afternoon. We've made some storage adjustments, gotten rid of many things we don't need, and wiped everything down with natural bleach. Every morning we wipe all the windows down and once and awhile we check on all the nooks and crannies. So far it seems under control again.

Today, we have a rare day of sunshine. We've got to get outside and soak it all up.

A belated Halloween picture

We think he was a French pirate but you'd have to ask him.

It's Autumn. I haven't been in this part of the province for anything other than summer and the odd winter weekend since I was seventeen. On the Coast, you're immersed in the elements with few distractions and so far I think it's a great thing. The infamous rainforest downpours haven't started yet; we've been enjoying pretty mild and sunny days. Knowing it won't last, we've been spending as much time outside as we can. Alex works outside and travels to Keats Island on a tiny boat each morning. He's also never lived in a small town, so I'm especially interested in seeing how the winter is for him. The weather dictates our days but also local harvests. We've been getting as much food from the roadside stands at farms in the Henry Reed area of Gibsons. Every time I go there's something slightly different, depending on the growing week and the weather. Right now there's obviously a lot of squash, kale, chard and garlic. There's also peppers, hot and sweet, and broccoli. We've had bundles of apples from Keats and up the road and the Wilson Creek farms which we're getting through a bit too quickly. The biggest harvest right now though is mushrooms. Plywood signs advertise mushroom buyers for local pickers along the highway. There are big luscious chanterelles in our fridge. After the great garden massacre (our garden got weedwacked and ripped out by our landlord, but don't get me started...), we've had to rely a bit more on the farms. But we still have arugula, radishes and a bit of lettuce clinging on through these frosty mornings.  

A cameraless family does not make for good bloggers. We have a video camera but it takes poor photos. We've  been using it for months, hence the odd quality. But, it's better than nothing.

Lazy Sunday bucket-standing