Honeycombs in Granville Island and A Turquoise Ocean

It’s Friday, another pro-D day (professional development day) and since the boys are staying home I thought we should make it a good day. Coconut pancakes start the day, friends come over to play for a bit and then we head over to the Museum of Anthropology. It’s raining but there is absolutely nothing wrong with any of the rain drops. They fall exactly where they should and each weaves perfect strands of freshness with the crisp air.
There’s totem poles and dug-out canoes, bows, arrows and baskets made by the First Nations people. Pendants, figures. And then more from every corner of the world. We sail over continents summed up in pieces of clothing and jewelry. There’s drawers of artifacts, all covered with glass so Sasha thinks it’s all a big tease, but the wonder of discovering things as we open each drawer is as real as can be. When the boys had enough we head out and stroll through the dripping woods that surround the museum. Forests are most alive when it rains, we hear trees splash their leaves in puddles just like kids splash their feet in every decent puddle they see. There’s a celebration in every rain that embraces the earth and today is no exception.

We drive by the beach and the ocean is a dirty turquoise that stuns. The clouds on the other side of the bay have rolled all the way down the mountain and their mouths are hanging open in astonishment. It must be that turquoise shade.

We’re headed to Granville Island. It’s the day of the honeycomb. You see, Tony has been asking for one for quite a while and there really is no better moment to do such thing than now. The market is busy. As always, I’d say. We stop and ask about the honey place and the man who makes beautiful stencil cards tells us where. He’s jolly and friendly until Sasha wants to feel the cards.  “Oh no, little one, they can’t be touched.” Well, I dare you to be five and not touch a tiny black paper cat that glides up these tiny black steps into an orange house. 3D stencil cards are just not easy to deal with. The man seemed to have had the angles at which the cards are exposed figured out just so. I take the baby octopus and his brother away from temptation and we go and buy a perfectly round, wax-covered honeycomb. We taste some honey and my little insatiable octopus feels the jars. They’re tiny and shaped like honeycombs, the glass hexagons have to be touched. I find it fascinating to see how much children rely on touching to understand the world around. Hot coffee and green olive loaf are part of today’s spoils.  Dusk is licking the wet pavement we leave behind as we slide away from the busy peninsula. Pavarotti’s Nessun Dorma ushers us gently into listening silence. The olive bread is soft with bits of peppercorn in it. The rain has picked up again.