There are no apostrophes in jazz

Hornby Island.

Canada’s California (minus the palm trees). Warm water, sandy beaches, “Island time” – which can take a while to settle into. A throwback to the 60s. In some respects, a return to rural Kenya.

We spent a couple of days visiting friends who live part-time on Hornby. Their careers are still centered in Vancouver but they are clearly happy and at home on Hornby. It’s a different lifestyle, a different mindset. Water is an issue – conservation isn’t an optional feel-good thing – and the rate of recycling/reusing is the highest in the country. The residents are more in tune with nature than most.

Seeing Hornby was wonderful; seeing our friends was even better. Long-time friends from University days, we share music, language, writing, good food, love of knowledge and beauty. A highlight was sitting on the deck of The Thatch Pub overlooking the water, after a glorious walk through the cedars and arbutus trees. It was one of those perfect moments where everything comes together – water, sunshine, friends, good conversation (apostrophes, jazz, architecture) and love.

Heather and Tim – I lift my Harper’s Trail Riesling to you. Cheers, darlings.

Image credit.

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About LaDona's Music Studio

Musician, pianist, teacher, blogger.
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2 Responses to There are no apostrophes in jazz

  1. Never been to Hornby LaDona. Sounds wonderful.

  2. It was beautiful, Dave – but I’m still a Rockies girl at heart. I miss the air.
    It’s so good to enjoy being away but at the same time look forward to returning home.

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