Paintings and Poems Painter: Chris Letourneau Poet: Sandra Mendoza Deer, raccoons, bears, cougars, birds are all here in this garden of eden. But what is the real wild life? The careless campers and partiers who leave behind the detritus of weekend fun? The dogs and their pets who pick their way through the mess and keep wary eyes out for the animals for whom scavenging through human discards have become a way of life? Who or what is wild life? Painter: Elizabeth Gregory Poet: Judy Wyper Beautiful mountain draws me like a magnet. Site of a forest fire long gone, the ground nurtures new growth and wildlife. I sit atop the facing rise and ponder life. What would mine be without Wild Places? Painter: Audrey Peat Poet: Wayne Power I wish you were here in this place called Peachland. I think I have discovered my own “Secret Garden”… of fruits and wines, of water pristine, of terraced vineyards and orchard rows. If ever there is a heaven on earth, I think I am close to where I am meant to be. I’ve discovered my own nirvana from my Pincushion view. And now you know my secret. Bye for now, from a “Peachlander”. Painter: Judy Hewlett Poet: Judy Wyper In 100 years: the oceans are higher Our planet’s human geography is different Climate change refugees Inhabit all safe places Increasing pressure on governments We rethink immigration laws, housing Codes, human rights Pincushion has sprouted high rises Hwy 97 is 12 lanes so plan again Lake Okanagan is at half pool in summer All we can do is look and try to survive Painter: Ev Crane Poet: Wayne Power Semi-desert slopes of pine-covered hills of sage and Saskatoon berry bushes of Arrowleaf Sunflowers Okanagan vistas of glacial debris of clay banks and eroded gorges A long lake of mythical moods and Kokanee runs A bountiful cornucopia of agricultural treasures Orchards and vineyards terracing the landscape A back country where geography creates a unique culture Invasion by tourists in search of free nature or a ride on the waves of a mysterious lake traveling over mountains into the Hinterlands Painter: Deb Livingstone Poet: Sandra Mendoza Whodathunkit? That bats, bats of all things would save the old primary school. That bats would become tourist attractions. That bats could cohabit with the Boys & Girls Club, the Visitors Centre and the Chamber of Commerce. You know the old saying that there’s money in…. or do we call it guano now? Painter: Richard Smith Poet: Wayne Power As I walked along Centennial Way, between the grasses and the shore, I wondered if the ghosts of Peachland’s pioneers are accompanying me into this town’s future. Time to reflect. Every passing moment creates history. Painter: Jan Topp Poet: Wayne Power orchards and terraced vineyards amongst Ponderosa pine a lakeside historic centennial community in search of a 21st century identity a senior demographic destination picturesque, placid, and a parched population with a thirsty search for wine and water suppression cliff dwellers above artificial retaining walls divisive developments creating multiple town sites citizens in search of a community center Painter: Chris Millar Poet: Judy Wyper Today I saw a wide-topped mushroom emerging from the forest floor. Its cap sported long brown Ponderosa pine needles and debris. Encumbranced, it nevertheless was making a debut. It will be a mushroom even with the extra load it carries. Its handicap will not stop it from emerging on cue and playing a role on the planet’s scene. Painter: Chris Berry Poet: Judy Wyper Flat on the ground at the base of a hill Lies a log and its bits strewn around. It’s been here some time and even more still Adorning this flattened green ground. With knobs that were branches, it’s turning to dirt. Trees engender immortality without seeking it, Their cells offered to nourish life. Not so for human remains boxed into tombs or Cremains kept in urns. Sprinkle me on the living Earth, That I may do some good at the end. Painter: Ute Hilligweg Poet: Wayne Power Row beside row the Varietals grow red, purple, green present the scene Lakeside slopes of ripening hopes Pinot noirs and chardonnays blue sky days and sunshine rays Okanagan sun caressing lines of parallel vines prepare for wines Pressing, squeeze the juices release fermenting yeast robust of body to increase Wine corked and aged in caskets caged ripen in cellars staged The nectar poured in stemware stored a vintage flavour praise and savour Painter: Joan Dupuis Poet: Judy Wyper The snow envelops me Covers my hat, boots, mitts I slog along the sidewalk Not yet cleared by the Peachland crew Snow reaches half way up my calves Others huddle inside, peer at me Through frosty windows I gaily wave while they shake their Heads But condescend to wave back Painter: Wayne Power Poet: Sandra Mendoza They dot the Peachland landscape, waiting for nature to beautify the modern ruins that are totally unlike the wonders of the ancient or modern worlds. I don’t see any tour buses adding these ‘carbuncles’ to their itineraries. Painter: Herb Kettner Poet: Vi Brown Bustling Beach Avenue Tourists and locals alike Jogging, walking and goggling Antique cars, Convertibles, RV’s and boat trailers Even 4-wheel bikes with a fringe On top All moving slowly No hurry Enjoying the scene Painter: Kay Baehl Poet: Vi Brown Locals committed to daily walks Delightfully observe summer activities Knowing September will come soon enough When life will become more quiet And, perhaps more peaceful But, certainly more lonely. Painter: Stella Tessier Poet: Vi Brown Motor boats cruising the lake Sail boats catching the wind Wind surfers tacking back and forth Kayaks hugging the shoreline Paddle boards drifting along All in a summer’s day On Peachland’s waterway! Painter: Patti Howe Poet: Wayne Power Suppression management A charred forest is nature’s preservation. Flames created the Pincushion legacy. Blackened Ponderosa pine stands in stark reminder. Peachland lives with inevitability and a threat. One extreme season can destroy our ecology and return us to our basic elements. All that remains is our responsibility to avoid, protect and suppress. Can fire really be managed? Painter: Anne Gidluck Poet: Vi Brown The ducks forage along the shoreline And the more sheltered creek areas They fluff their feathers against the cold Snow sprinkles and makes their feathers glisten Nature turns quiet It is a time to rest. Painter: Millicent Winston Poet: Judy Wyper Wolf lichen is strewn on the trail, spring green pieces in late November. Evidence of the fury that wind inflicts, branch-churning forces assaulting the trees. Painter: Val Thompson Poet: Vi Brown You have the time But the dollars are few Children are anxious to play On this summer day So you pack a lunch and take your crew Arriving at Peachland’s waterfront town And by the lake you park your car No tickets required, no meters around, No time limits curtailing your day How wonderful, appreciable and affordable Thank you Peachland! The accompanying poems for each painting will be uploaded soon.