It was noon. Save for an attendant or two, the flowers had the great building to themselves. Exquisite hothouse “exotics” stared at wholesome “garden blooms” and claimed no kinship, but the perfume mingled without snobbery, and the smell of the flowershow was one smell, immense, magnificent. Tyler’s lily exhibit…
There was trouble at Bessy’s. Jimmy Jacob brought the yellow “hully-up paper” the last lap of its journey by canoe. His lean, brown hand put it into the hand of Jenny Smith, which was plump and old—also Indian. It was the first wire Jenny had ever seen. Having delivered…
Chief Moon looked down upon the wizened brown face of his heir, neatly and securely laced into a coffin-shaped basket cradle. There was grim determination in the small Indian features shut up tight like an aggravated sea anemone. The brows were well defined, the hair long and very black.
hosted, designed & maintained by Marilyn Jones for the walks & talks, bus tours and presentations she offers on Emily Carr in-person and online from Victoria, BC.
