Trifled Timing for a Triad's Timbre

Raydene Nash

© Copyright 2023 by Raydene Nash

Photo property of the author.
Photo property of the author.

Since prior to my second marriage, neither the emerald shaded Vikker River nor its choice Vikker Valley had been entered by me. Years back in the summer of 2006, Lori invited me to camp for a couple of nights with her across Vikker lake, entered by Vikker River. Lori was a Naturalist as were the other campers to be there. She was a newly retired schoolteacher. I continued to aspire to my childhood summercamp canoeing honor skills. Both of us held positions as church pianists in differing churches.

As we canoed over to the campsite, my shockingly weakened paddling adding to her experienced, stronger strokes, we felt a few complimentary raindrops in the wind. Upon arrival, a campsite in the white sand by the trees awaited us. I helped Lois set up camp. The scent of cedar wafted through the air as we went for a hike through trees adorned with Witch’s Hair upon the springy, mosscovered forest floor. Returning to camp, useable yellow canoes by the lake water centered among the mountain ranges accompanied the scene.  

Drops Vikker’s vale winds fling,
Brimming lakes of shifting waves swing.
Ray of the dell is bent
On emerald hues, at present.”

I have grace-notes of memories of trifles of time spent living outside of nearby Vikker City in1997. Tasted could be the steamed, red-stemmed, leafy green Swiss chard I ate from the aged, raised wooden beds of the glass-encased greenhouse. Smelled could be my favorite scents, those of fresh air following rain and blooming purple lilacs embellishing the double lot I lived on with my boyfriend, Sam. Invasive Knap weed was seen covering most ground not taken up by relics of old, abandoned motor vehicles out back. At the carport, a red hummingbird feeder daily attracted the wispy creatures in a flurry of colors, hovering at it, partaking of its sweetness. I’d again savor sips of red chardonnay wine upon my tongue if I knew where to get it.

When visiting Effie’s house atop a hill across the Vikker River, I could be heard playing classical piano music. She owned a lightly stained, wooden, antique upright piano, whose tuning was not too bad. Ecstatically, my nimble fingers flew through the phrases and pages of the music of the Four Impromptus by Franz Schubert from memory. No one knew what I was playing as they were used to oldies from the 40’s and onward, yet they appreciated the background music.

Vikker River,
Cutting through the valley’s center,
Filled with verdant wonder,
At your shores I am a caller.”

Returning on a road trip two autumns ago with my friend, Polly, I felt we were in the ethereal. We approached the trip excitedly, each of us giving place to our inner child as we conversed openly and joyfully. From her car scented with sage and orange peels, to the feel of white sand on my stockinged feet and wading in the verdant Vikker River, as well as the complete blackness of the night out of which shone myriads of stars, it felt infallible.

We shopped at Infinityglade Grocers, a large market filled with Organics, and ate delectable items from the menu of Matraya’s restaurant. We stayed one night at Ivory Chalets, also in that area. We bought gas at Matraya’s Mini Mart, where many nonchalant valley boys happened to be congregated. Across from it, a pig roast was beginning, which also drew an eager, larger dinner crowd. This grace-note of a time out here, I had to get used to not having any cell reception with which to phone my husband. Happily, I brought my digital camera.

Vikker River,
Ice melt as glacier water
Like envy may be seen,
In you light reflects shades of green.”

During some of the trifles of time I referred to in paragraph three, the muffled tinkling of metal, hand-held tools tinkered away at old autos on their way to the wrecker. Coined Carl’s song about peeps riding through the firmament could still be heard on the FM radio station. One of them was Sam, my German boyfriend with curly light blond hair, who was balding on top. Another was a distant, sidestepping Russian friend dressed in old, nondescript coveralls, and the third, a Nordic man, was a triad taller than anyone at 6 feet 8 inches tall. His chestnut hair curled tantalizingly, and there was life in his most mesmerizing blue eyes. He heard me play Effie’s piano more than once.

Although we’d both been to the Vikker Valley, anticipation had built toward what this trip might be like. At dawn, she exudes the reddened sun in her hot romantic beauty calmed by crisp glacier breezes, blue skies shining, and a river in her midst overhung with mist. Spring brings bluebells and snow lilies, which abound. In the summertime, pines, cedars, blue spruce, and poplars grow in stands, interspersed by edible wild mushrooms such as white pines and orangish oysters. Winter sports wood smoke from woodstoves and the call of the wayward crows. Early autumn leaves alongside miniature acorns by us were yet to be discovered in Dinadene.

Vikker River,
At dawn, over you hover
Thick clouds of morning mist.
They’re following above your gist.”

As much as I’ve always loved the Vikker Valley, it was better reliving those grace-note memories while visiting there with Polly. We were able to be very honest with each other about where we were in life. She was feeling the loss of so many of her family who’d succumbed to terminal illness. I was feeling the loss of my grandmother, and my mother who’d died when I was 11, shortly before her.

I feel cheated of much of my inheritance from the sale of Grandmother’s lower land at Edgewood, BC, in a neighboring valley. It was fertile, containing many fruit-bearing trees as well as berry bushes. It was far better than the upper land. Before my birth, it had been flooded for the sake of electricity for the greater good. If she’d gotten a fair price, and it’d been invested like Auntie did with the money from the sale of the upper land that survived the flooding at Edgewood, it would’ve amounted to something.

No, people don’t get rich from farming today. It is a whole different story with real estate and the sale of land. I suffer as I watch my inheritance being handed out often to the most unfriendly of strangers, which is a Biblical curse. I feel it especially where I can see it and receive very little of it myself in the form of farmers market coupons. More so now, as prices have risen drastically, it is hurtful to me. This pictures what was left of Grandmother’s land at the time of its sale.

Vikker River
Is creating the best timbre,
Grace-note timed rapids break,
Embellishments you’re free to make.”

Another of my grace-note memories is in Summer 2002, when I went river rafting with a group in the calmer waters of the meandering Vikker River. The water had been brilliant blue with a minimum of rapids where we paddled. Though free to jump in the river and swim alongside the raft, none of us did. We beached in the white sand of the Vikker River’s shore to the Punky Paddlers’ song about Bermuda playing on the FM radio station. There, the sun bright in the cloudless, blue sky, our attendants roasted hot dogs and made smores for us as we quenched our thirst with 7-Up.

After my second marriage, I stayed more in the good graces of everyone we came across in the Vikker Valley than I feel accustomed to. Enraptured by this experience, I would love to go again with Polly to visit the Vikker River. I did not recognize anyone’s face this time around. However, I was blessed with more personal resources at my disposal than before, returning home with oodles of goodies and trinkets for my husband and I to share.

Vikker River,
Much like my triumphant laughter,
Meandering freely,
You aren’t slowing down for any.”


Author’s Notes:

Song lyrics entitled “Vikker River,” written by author. Pictures chosen at author’s discretion.

Trifled: left with a small amount of something

Triad: a three-note chord in music

Timbre: quality of a musical note

I started writing poetry at the age of 13, inspired by the sound of panpipes. That summer, I was Employee of the Month at my first summer job, riding an ice cream bike for Dickie Dee Ice Cream in July. While I have changed my poetic style more than once, I presently write poetry. I took piano lessons through Royal Conservatory of Music affiliated teachers up to Grade 10. An amateur flautist, in 1986 I won the award for Most Improved Band Student at YAA in Yorkton, SK. I completed Word Processing online through Okanagan College, Kelowna Campus, and Medical Terminology online through Selkirk College, Castlegar Campus. My current marriage is a Red Wedding. Currently I am a macrame artist and enjoy creating collages using scrap art. I have never made money from my writing.

Contact Raydene
(Unless you type the author's name
in the subject line of the message
we won't know where to send it.)

Book Case

Home Page

The Preservation Foundation, Inc., A Nonprofit Book Publisher