One of my favorite places in Vancouver is the bar at the Sylvia Hotel. It's right on the water in English Bay and when they renovated - the hotel was built in 1912 - they changed all the windows to be big high open picture windows that let in the sun and the surf and the trees and the sunset.
Late yesterday afternoon I looked up from my computer and books and work and decided that I would walk the beach. It was a sunny day and the wind was blowing from the west (like it mostly is in Vancouver), whipping up the waves into whitecaps, forcing the seagulls to hover instead of fly, blowing sand into my face and hair. It was exhilirating.
The Sylvia is more often than not the planned turn-around for my walk (I stop and have a glass of wine before I head home) and after I'd trotted down the beach in my bare feet, I parked myself on a bench in front of the Sylvia to enjoy just a little more of the sun and wind.
I met a friend, in town from Las Vegas, and he joined me at the Sylvia for a drink. I often forget just how fortunate I am to live here in Vancouver, right on the beach, the mountains overlooking the water from the north, boats flying across the bay, a heron paddling in the shallows for dinner, the seagulls screaming at the bald eagles as they chase them across the sky, the sun dipping lower and lower until the perfect moment to slip behind the mountains and leave a last glimmer of brilliant orange and red to color the sky.
But visitors from out of town see things much more clearly than those of us who are used to the splendor surrounding us. Maybe especially those who come here from the desert or the prairies. They see the water, the mountains, the green of the trees and the grass, the lush flowers and bushes that we live with everyday.
So thanks for showing me how fortunate I am to live here, to see its beauty through your eyes.
Kate
Late yesterday afternoon I looked up from my computer and books and work and decided that I would walk the beach. It was a sunny day and the wind was blowing from the west (like it mostly is in Vancouver), whipping up the waves into whitecaps, forcing the seagulls to hover instead of fly, blowing sand into my face and hair. It was exhilirating.
The Sylvia is more often than not the planned turn-around for my walk (I stop and have a glass of wine before I head home) and after I'd trotted down the beach in my bare feet, I parked myself on a bench in front of the Sylvia to enjoy just a little more of the sun and wind.
I met a friend, in town from Las Vegas, and he joined me at the Sylvia for a drink. I often forget just how fortunate I am to live here in Vancouver, right on the beach, the mountains overlooking the water from the north, boats flying across the bay, a heron paddling in the shallows for dinner, the seagulls screaming at the bald eagles as they chase them across the sky, the sun dipping lower and lower until the perfect moment to slip behind the mountains and leave a last glimmer of brilliant orange and red to color the sky.
But visitors from out of town see things much more clearly than those of us who are used to the splendor surrounding us. Maybe especially those who come here from the desert or the prairies. They see the water, the mountains, the green of the trees and the grass, the lush flowers and bushes that we live with everyday.
So thanks for showing me how fortunate I am to live here, to see its beauty through your eyes.
Kate
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