When my nephew visited us for the 2024/2025 holiday season, we were hoping for a white Christmas and/or a snowy New York.
We didn’t get either, but we did find snow!
At Whistler and Grouse Mountain.
At Whistler, it snowed as we were leaving. We were blanketed with huge, soft, floaty snowflakes (my favourite sort!).
At Grouse, we walked through the trees, and my nephew built a little snowman, cute as could be, about as tall as his hand.
And snuggled him into a nook in a tree.
His little snowman inspired this painting.
Frosty
Acrylic on canvas 30.5 x 30.5 cms (12×12 inches) by Arwen Munro, June 2025. Painted at Crush of Colour, St Stephens Anglican Church, Ambleside, West Vancouver, Canada.
I painted this one a while ago, but I wasn’t ready to share him until now.
Isn’t life funny? One minute we feel one way, and the next, another.
First, my nephew, a classical musician who is an undergraduate at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music.
I loved going to his concerts when we were in Sydney!
And I’m deeply appreciative of his passion for taking us to see the New York Philharmonic Orchestra at Lincoln Center when we were in New York at the beginning of this year.
And second, the Orpheum here in Vancouver.
The Orpheum is a gorgeous old theatre, reminiscent to me of the old Broadway theatres in New York.
In the dark theatre, a small, shadowy, silhouetted element in the ceiling mural caught my eye and captured my imagination; a conductor, arms raised.
The Conductor
Acrylic on canvas 30.5 x 30.5 cms (12×12 inches) by Arwen Munro, September 2025. Painted at our home, Park Royal, West Vancouver, Canada.
For this afternoon’s painting, we were at Eagle Harbour, West Vancouver.
Back in 2023, when Lil and I first arrived in Vancouver, we arrived in mid-June, perfect timing for the wild blackberry, which is literally everywhere here, to be in full bloom.
And a short time later, juicy, sweet blackberries! (if you pick the soft ones)
My cousin’s daughter visited at just the perfect time for ripe blackberries this year.
We found some good ones at Eagle Harbour!
Eagle Harbour Mansions
Acrylic on canvas 30.5 x 30.5 cms (12×12 inches) by Arwen Munro, July 2025. Painted at Eagle Harbour, West Vancouver, Canada.
On the last day of July 2025, we joined the North Shore Artists’ Guild at West Vancouver Yacht Club to paint as the sun set over the marina.
Summer days here are lovely and long.
Surrounded by quiet, focused artists, we were entertained by a family behind us enjoying their drinks and gossiping. I remember them talking about getting hair transplants in Turkey, he he, amazing what you can learn.
Talking about learning, my new favourite thing to do is listen to audiobooks as I paint. I’m devouring the free Audible books on history. I’m now learning about human evolution. I get so excited when I have time to just sit and paint and listen/learn.
West Vancouver Yacht Club
Acrylic on canvas 30.5 x 30.5 cms (12×12 inches) by Arwen Munro, July 2025. Painted at West Vancouver Yacht Club, West Vancouver, Canada.
Before heading to Newfoundland, a work colleague, with a cheeky sparkle in his eye, said, ‘You have to get screeched in when you’re there.’
I looked it up, to be screeched in is to become an honourary Newfoundlander.
The ceremony, performed at some pubs, requires saying something in old Irish, kissing a cod, and downing a shot of rum.
Mmmm…
When we booked our boat trip to view the icebergs up close, they asked if we’d like to purchase a shot of rum for the adults. We said yes, thinking this would be nice to warm us up on a cold boat trip. Little did we know we’d signed up to be screeched in!
On the way out, we were lulled by their lovely accents. They told us about the icebergs, how long they’ve been on their journey, how old they are, and the best way to film them.
All rugged up, with the cold wind rouging our cheeks and nose, I was anywhere but 2025.
We cruised around two great icebergs.
They’re huge and noisy, cracking and creaking!
I’m remembering a quiet amongst us.
Or maybe it was just me; everything else melted away, including my dearly beloved incessant inner voice.
A moment of peaceful quiet, not a worry in the world.
Thank you, icebergs.
Then on the way back home, the crew brought us inside, put floppy yellow fisherman’s rain hats on us, taught us something to say in old Irish (I can’t for the life of me remember it, but I feel certain it had ‘mudda’ in it, which reminds me of Playing Beatie Bow), passed around a cod to kiss (a soft toy, phew!) and gave us a shot of rum.
It doesn’t take much to make me tipsy!
Then, back up on deck, with an ugly stick, we sang sea shanties!
Ha ha, I got to have a go of the ugly stick, so did my two much more musically coordinated fellow travellers.
Before we knew it, we were back on shore.
Next stop lunch, then on to Bonavista!
Our Iceberg
Acrylic on canvas 30.5 x 30.5 cms (12×12 inches) by Arwen Munro, June 2025. Painted at Crush of Colour, St Stephens Anglican Church, Ambleside, West Vancouver, Canada.
Did you know you can see icebergs from the east coast of Canada?!
From Newfoundland and Labrador.
They travel down the Iceberg Alley, a section of the Atlantic Ocean.
The best time to see them? May-June.
We booked our flights!
And a friend from San Francisco booked to join us!!
To make Newfoundland an even more exciting destination for me, I learnt that the last Irish convict ship sent to the east coast of America, the Duke of Leinster, had disembarked (a nice word for it) the convicts in Bay Bulls & Petty Harbour, Newfoundland in 1789. It’s a very sad tale. The locals rounded them up with the plan to send them back, but before they could, a contagious disease they brought with them, likely Typhus/jail fever, killed more than 200 locals. Eventually, they were shipped back to London. The message was received. No more convict ships were sent to America from Ireland; they were sent to Australia instead.
You’ll remember that our ancestor, Margaret Maloney, was on one of these ships bound for Botany Bay—the Boddingtons. It left Ireland in 1793. If you’d like to read more about Margaret, here’s a link to the post.
In the 1700s & 1800s, Irish fishermen would travel to Newfoundland for the cod-fishing season; some eventually settled permanently. You can hear the old Irish accent in the Newfoundlander’s speech patterns today.
There was something incredibly peaceful about Newfoundland, a little bit like stepping back in time.
I loved learning about and tasting toutons, seeing the colourful houses, the rugged coastline, and hearing them speak. Not to mention seeing and communing with the icebergs!
But there was one thing that surprised me! The island was literally covered with huge dandelion flowers! The flowers were bigger than egg yolks! They were everywhere, on roadsides, in people’s yards, in fields, on coastal outcrops, on rocky beaches, seriously everywhere!
So so beautiful!
Dandelion Flowers (Newfoundland, Canada)
Acrylic on canvas 30.5 x 30.5 cms (12×12 inches) by Arwen Munro, June 2025. Painted at Crush of Colour, St Stephens Anglican Church, Ambleside, West Vancouver, Canada.
