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.
