I was walking along Bridge Street toward Bay Street, close to the upper harbour, having just left my truck at a tire shop in this local industrial area. It would be an hour to ninety minutes I was told, to have all four tires replaced. I decided to allow them a full two hours and headed off to a small diner I remembered, called the The Red Kettle. Run by a pleasant Asian couple when I was last there, I wondered if they were still operating the establishment themselves.
It had been some four or five years since I had been in this part of Victoria. The municipal yard was still there and I crossed the street to have a better look through the chain link fence and watch the goings on. Not something most would think to do and quite frankly I don't think I spent any more time standing there than it took me to cross the road. I could see the familiar sign with the red kettle on it a couple blocks away and thought to hurry in case it became busy with the morning rush. I wanted a table with some elbow room, enough to open up the local news paper while having my morning meal and a bottomless cup of coffee at my leisure.
It was a grey yet pleasantly warm early June day, a welcomed beginning to summer after one of the coldest winters on record for this part of Canada. I could tell by the smells that the last few years of community effort to clean up the Gorge Waterway was reaping the benefits they were hoping for. People were actually swimming in it again I heard over the past two summers although I had no intention of testing the coldness of it's waters.
Crossing an intersection I came upon a block long industrial building. I couldn't remember what type of enterprise was here. Thoughts turned to what my stomach was growling for. I rarely eat out in this city as the prices are geared more for the well healed and the many tourists that visit every year. I'm a good cook anyway and I expected whatever I had today was going to leave me uninspired but satisfied. Sometimes we eat for fuel, other's we eat for pleasure. This was simply a convenient pit-stop to start my day.
Browns and greys were the predominant hues of this industrial enclave, with some blues and then the greenery and splashes of vibrant colours of the occasional business that cared to have some landscaping done as part of their welcome for incoming clients. Victoria's very much the city of gardens, even in the industrial zones. Walking toward the diner at a more accelerated pace a flash of bright yellow and red entered my right field of vision. One would have to be extremely preoccupied to miss this as it was approximately four by four foot square. Starting at about knee level and then over my head. Striking really and I lost all thoughts of hash-browns, lightly basted eggs, well done toast (burnt) and copious amounts of coffee.
I turned to more fully address this bright poster in what I thought an unlikely place. As I took in the whole of it my first impression was that I felt 25-30 years younger...maybe a touch of nostalgia for my childhood too as I had grown up in the Niagara Region, which is almost as famous as the Okanagan for fruit production in Canada. Entre Nous that's French, I thought to myself, not Belgian. I failed miserably at French immersion class in grade school but I managed to pick up a little over the years through osmosis. Roughly it meant 'between you and I' ...like a secret.
The sexuality of the image was hardly subtle and I thought this worthy of taking a picture of and took my phone out from my back pocket. A BB Z10, laugh if you must but this phone has been through a lot with me since I had upgraded from a Storm 2 four years ago...and it does take pretty decent pics. I can video stream for hours if I have external power and I'm still on my original battery. Not to mention the grandfathered "truly unlimited" data plan that I still have as long as I'm with Ma Bell.
-for those that aren't aware, you can right click on the photo to see it in a larger format-
As I was stepping back to the curb, framing the shot I noticed another poster next to this one and several more all down the line. I took four or five images, as my eyesight isn't so good and I know by now at least one will turn out well. I then moved to the next, then the next, each one in it's turn. I had found my morning muse, food had left my thoughts and I instantly was lost in that timeless world of discovery, that I can only fleetingly catch glimpses of...of the truly creative artist. This was somebody else's art that had me spellbound.
What follows is some of those photos I took that day. I hope you enjoy them. Thanks for looking and please leave a comment of encouragement. No upvote required but feel free to share with your followers if you really really like this. I'll be sharing a lot of my wanderings around Vancouver Island here on Steemit over the next few years. I promise to pare down the verbage. It's going to take time and practice before I gain traction in the TooLongDidn'tRead community. And there's nothing wrong with that. smiles
-notice the curling along the seam at the bottom...how apropos!-
-for those who have difficulty with this one...the beer is called 'DARK MATTER'-
-almost there folks...just turned the corner notice the homage to the diner?-
-it is said that you can lead a thirsty horse to water...but you can't make it drink...thirsty yet?-
If you'd like to go inside, you most welcome to do so. Just click on the words of the resident master below.
Warning in Canada, you must be 18 to enter.
A recent post of mine that may be of interest to some. Nice photos of a peacock in full regalia. Take a moment if you have it...introduce yourself...and welcome to Steemit! What you DON'T Like About Steemit
If you have some beer label art/collections that you would like to share, feel free to share in the comments. Would love to share more if there's any interest. Just not sure I've tagged this right.
~smiles fer miles~ Enjoy your day!
I throw this ended shadow from me, manshape ineluctable, call it back. Endless, would it be mine, form of my form? Who watches me here? Who ever anywhere will read these written words? ~ James Joyce - Ulysses