Biker Chic

For the past year, I've been cycling ten miles a day, four times a week, and getting nowhere.  A stationary bike, may not take you places, but an active imagination can take you anywhere!  I "travel" through wine country in France, and California, or even Canada's own Niagara and Okanagan regions, without ever leaving home.

Three years ago, I borrowed a generous Torontonian's turquoise-mint green bicycle, for a photoshoot in the park next door (https://widowsendorphins.blogspot.com/2016/08/balance-and-bicycles.html)

The photographs survive, in my computer archives.  The flowers in the park, however, are gone.  They've been dug up, in preparation for the expanded excavation of the reservoir lands.  You've heard the sarcastic expression, "take a picture, it'll last longer"?  It's true!

The park next door is not the only site undergoing massive reconstruction.  The complex where I live, is undergoing major reconstruction of our balconies.  Gone. along with the balconies, are windowboxes and planters which would be overflowing with roses, fuchsias, geraniums, begonias, dahlias, lobelia, and sweet potato vines. 

    

In search of flora and fauna, I also have fun, exploring the chrome and bright colours of the bikes in our bike racks.  The daylilies growing nearby, are a cheerful backdrop to the black and chrome handlebars of bikes, ever ready to be whisked away by their owners, on a sunny afternoon.  

I am drawn to circles, and bright colours, so photographing bicycles is always a joy.  These gleaming, new bikes were parked outside of a cycling shop in Steveston, British Columbia last July.  I look at these photographs, and recall the freshess of the salt air, and warmth of the sun that afternoon.  Happy in the knowledge, that I will return!

In my imaginary travels, every happy cycling adventure ends with a delicious picnic, luscious red wine, or chilled champagne.  Don't ask me how the champagne stays chilled on the journey...just go with it!

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

What's in Your Potato Salad?

I love al fresco dining - food simply tastes better outdoors!  Simple food - even better! 

My memories of childhood Summers include evening picnics in the many parks surrounding Vancouver.  Dad would arrive home from work, and Mum would have the enormous family picnic basket packed with plates, cutlery, mugs, salt and pepper shakers (their tops covered with plastic wrap to prevent spills), a large thermos, and a cotton table cloth.  Once dinner for six (or eight, if our Grandparents were with us), was tucked inside, we could barely close the lid on the basket.
  

Earlier in the day, Mum would have roasted a whole chicken, or baked chicken thighs and legs, and chilled them.  She would have boiled potatoes, hard boiled eggs, and chilled them to make her Potato Salad.  Somehow, she would have found the time to bake a cake, or fruit pie to take with us.

We'd load up the Station Wagon and head for Lighthouse Park, Cates Park, Stanley Park, Spanish Banks, or Deer Lake. Those were the days before seatbelt legislation, when we kids would all be riding in the lowered back seats of the car, waving at every passing motorist, or loudly counting every out-of-province license plate we could see (California plates were coveted).           

Our local deli counter has as many as four different potato salads from which to choose.  Some are made with red potatoes, green beans and a vinaigrette, some have ham and grated Cheddar cheese in them, some have hard boiled egg.  Simple food is not so simple.  Family tradition, and regional differences, play a big part in potato salad choices.  

Mum's Potato Salad was made with white potatoes, hard boiled eggs, celery, fresh parsley, mayonnaise, mustard, a little pickle relish, salt and pepper.  Onions were omitted for Dad's sake.  The egg yolks and mustard gave it a sunny yellow glow.  Her Mother-in-Law made it the same way. Comfort food, made with love.  The first time I made it for my husband, he could barely eat it.

His mother was a terrible cook, with a great job as the head of room service for a famous hotel.  She brought home amazing left overs.  In his teens, he would hang out in the hotel kitchens, watching the chefs prepare classic dishes.  He was a far better cook than I will ever be:  his Seafood Lasagna and Bouillabaisse were divine!

"This is not Potato Salad!", he declared, glaring at his plate.  "You never put hard boiled eggs in potato salad!"  Horror creeping across his face, he cried,"pickle relish?!!"  With a look of disappointment, "you made it all mushy.  Where are the potato pieces?  You should be able to see pieces of potato".  About the only thing he liked, was the mustard.  Gordon Ramsay would have been in tears! 

I learned to make his favourite Potato Salad, adding pickle relish and Egg Salad to my own.  We'd eat outdoors, on the balcony, listening to the evening song of the birds and squirrels.  "Ruint it", he'd say, pointing to my plate, and imitating an old Irish priest, "ya ruint it".  He'd wink, and all would be well with the world.

It's been nearly two years since he died, leaving me with mostly great memories (the potato salad al fresco fiasco aside). Dad died when I was 17.  Mum has been paralyzed for more than 30 years.  All of my Grandparents are gone.  It's no picnic.  All the more reason to celebrate life, by creating more picnics in our lives!       

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.