AmplifiedLIFE

The Canadian Tulip Festival was established to celebrate the historic Royal gift of tulips from the Dutch to Canadians immediately following the Second World War as a symbol of international friendship. The Festival preserves the memorable role of the Canadian troops in the liberation of the Netherlands and Europe, as well as commemorates the birth of Dutch Princess Margriet in Ottawa during World War II—the only royal personage ever born in Canada. The Canadian Tulip Festival has been celebrating the tulip, an international symbol of friendship and peace, since 1953. The first Canadian Tulip Festival was held at the suggestion of world renowned photographer Malak Karsh.

"Seems like a dream. Got me hypnotized." A meditation on sand, water, clouds, sun and wind.

Did you know that the Alaskan coastline is longer than all the other U.S. states combined?! Our Celebrity cruise took us past mountains and streams, sailing alongside the icy beauty of some of the world's most impressive glaciers, from the Hubbard Glacier and the Tracy Arm Fjord.

I spotted an American Goldfinch on my walk today. These bright yellow birds are active and acrobatic. They cling to weeds and seed socks, and sometimes mill about in large numbers at feeders or on the ground beneath them. Goldfinches fly with a bouncy, undulating pattern and often call in flight, drawing attention to themselves. The goldfinch’s main natural habitats are weedy fields and floodplains, where plants such as thistles and asters are common. They’re also found in cultivated areas, roadsides, orchards, and backyards. American Goldfinches can be found at feeders any time of year, but most abundantly during winter.

Ottawa, the capital of Canada, has something called the NCC. The National Capital Commission. Among other things, their task is to beautify the city, in all seasons. In the winter, they take care of "the world's largest skating rink" on our Rideau canal. In the summer they make beautiful natural things even more beautiful. Here, I’m taking some footage around Dow's Lake where there are plenty of flowers, trees and of course the lake itself.

Just me and my family - along with Russell the Norwich terrier- hanging out in downtown Toronto on a sunny Sunday August afternoon in 2020.

I took this shot of an enticing sign in Toronto's Pearson International airport. Looking forward to flying once again, without restrictions ...

In the fall, Québec’s landscapes unveil their rich colours. From orange-yellows to blazing reds, nature dons its fineries for our enjoyment. As summer’s frenzied landscapes give way to a completely different type of scenery, we slow our pace to better observe nature’s metamorphosis. We taste the fall’s comforting savours and delight in this new season that, while fleeting, will leave us with lasting memories. The air feels cooler. It’s time to pull on a sweater and savour a comforting hot chocolate. The silence at sunset draws us into our thoughts as we gaze in the distance at a serene lake that reflects the leaves’ heart-warming colours. Walking is the best way to enjoy the fall colours. Seeing the wind twirl leaves in a cheerful dance, smelling the odour of a wood fire and hearing the crackle of leaves under our feet satisfy the senses and the heart. Half of Québec is covered in woodland and the province is dotted with 3 million lakes. More than 200 areas are protected by parks and wildlife reserves. Québec is also dotted with more than 180 major regional and municipal parks. Enjoy the season!

The Dutch - and in fact many Europeans - LOVE their bicycles. In Amsterdam, people own an estimated 881,000 bicycles! From a 2015 article by Renate van der Zee, entitled: How Amsterdam became the bicycle capital of the world: In the 1960s, Dutch cities were increasingly deferring to motorists, with the car seen as the transport of the future. It took the intolerable toll of child traffic deaths – and fierce activism – to turn Amsterdam into the cycling nirvana of today Anyone who has ever tried to make their way through the centre of Amsterdam in a car knows it: the city is owned by cyclists. They hurry in swarms through the streets, unbothered by traffic rules, taking precedence whenever they want, rendering motorists powerless by their sheer numbers. Cyclists rule in Amsterdam and great pains have been taken to accommodate them: the city is equipped with an elaborate network of cycle-paths and lanes, so safe and comfortable that even toddlers and elderly people use bikes as the easiest mode of transport. It’s not only Amsterdam which boasts a network of cycle-paths, of course; you’ll find them in all Dutch cities. The Dutch take this for granted; they even tend to believe these cycle-paths have existed since the beginning of time. But that is certainly not the case. There was a time, in the 1950s and 60s, when cyclists were under severe threat of being expelled from Dutch cities by the growing number of cars. Only thanks to fierce activism and a number of decisive events would Amsterdam succeed in becoming what it is, unquestionably, now: the bicycle capital of the world. The amount of trips made by bicycle in Amsterdam plunged from 80% to 20% between the 1950s and 70s. At the start of the 20th century, bikes far outnumbered cars in Dutch cities and the bicycle was considered a respectable mode of transport for men and women. But when the Dutch economy began to boom in the post-war era, more and more people were able to afford cars, and urban policymakers came to view the car as the travel mode of the future. Entire Amsterdam neighbourhoods were destroyed to make way for motorised traffic. The use of bikes decreased by 6% every year, and the general idea was that bicycles would eventually disappear altogether. The streets no longer belonged to the people who lived there, but to huge traffic flows All that growing traffic took its toll. The number of traffic casualties rose to a peak of 3,300 deaths in 1971. More than 400 children were killed in traffic accidents that year. This staggering loss led to protests by different action groups, the most memorable of which was Stop de Kindermoord (“stop the child murder”). Its first president was the Dutch former MEP, Maartje van Putten. “I was a young mother living in Amsterdam and I witnessed several traffic accidents in my neighbourhood where children got hurt,” van Putten, 63, recalls. “I saw how parts of the city were torn down to make way for roads. I was very worried by the changes that took place in society – it affected our lives. The streets no longer belonged to the people who lived there, but to huge traffic flows. That made me very angry.” In the 1960s Amsterdam was in danger of being given over to the car – many wide new roads were built with little or no cycle provision. In the 1960s planners viewed the car as the travel mode of the future, and swaths of the city were destroyed to make way for motorised traffic. The 1970s were a great time for being angry in Holland: activism and civil disobedience were rampant. Stop de Kindermoord grew rapidly and its members held bicycle demonstrations, occupied accident blackspots, and organised special days during which streets were closed to allow children to play safely: “We put tables outside and held a huge dinner party in our street. And the funny thing was, the police were very helpful.” Van Putten remembers the 70s as a time when Dutch authorities were remarkably accessible: “We simply went to tea with MPs – and they really listened to what we had to say. We cycled with a group of activists and an organ grinder to the house of the prime minister, Joop den Uyl, to sing songs and ask for safer streets for children. We didn’t get beyond the hallway, but he did come out to hear our plea.” We had a great fighting spirit and we knew how to voice our ideas. And in the end, we would get our bicycle lane. Stop de Kindermoord became subsidised by the Dutch government, established its headquarters in a former shop, and went on to develop ideas for safer urban planning – which eventually resulted in the woonerf: a new kind of people-friendly street with speed bumps and bends to force cars to drive very slowly. Nowadays the woonerf has gone out of fashion, but it can still be found in many Dutch cities. Two years after Stop de Kindermoord was established, another group of activists founded the First Only Real Dutch Cyclists’ Union to demand more space for bicycles in the public realm – organising bike rides along dangerous stretches of road, and compiling inventories of the problems encountered by cyclists. An estimated 38% of all trips in Amsterdam are made by bike – compared with 2% in London. “Somehow we managed to strike a chord,” says Tom Godefrooij, 64, who got involved with the Cyclists’ Union as a young man. He remembers noisy mass demonstrations with tricycles and megaphones, and nightly ventures to paint illegal bicycle lanes in streets the union considered dangerous. “First we would be arrested by the police, of course, but then the whole thing would be in the newspapers and municipal politicians would eventually listen. We had a great fighting spirit and we knew how to voice our ideas. And in the end, we would get our bicycle lane. Even in the 70s, you know, there were politicians who understood that the general focus on cars would eventually cause problems.” The activists of Stop de Kindermoord and the Cyclists’ Union were resourceful and undaunted, but there were other forces helping to create a fertile soil for their ideas. The Netherlands – possessing few hills and a mild climate – had a great tradition of cycling to begin with and the bike was never completely marginalised as it was in some other countries. The intolerable number of traffic deaths really was a serious concern for politicians, and there was a nascent awareness of the pollution caused by vehicle emissions. The 1973 oil crisis – when Saudi Arabia and other Arab oil exporters imposed an embargo on the US, Britain, Canada, Japan and the Netherlands for supporting Israel in the Yom Kippur war – quadrupled the price of oil. During a television speech, prime minister Den Uyl urged Dutch citizens to adopt a new lifestyle and get serious about saving energy. The government proclaimed a series of car-free Sundays: intensely quiet weekend days when children played on deserted motorways and people were suddenly reminded of what life was like before the hegemony of the car. People in Amsterdam own an estimated 881,000 bicycles. On one of these car-free Sundays, Maartje van Putten, together with a group of other parents and children, rode her bike through a tunnel to the northern part of Amsterdam, in which no provisions for cyclists had been made. “We didn’t realise that what we did was dangerous, because there were still some cars on the road. Our trip ended at the police station, but we made our point.” Gradually, Dutch politicians became aware of the many advantages of cycling, and their transport policies shifted – maybe the car wasn’t the mode of transport of the future after all. In the 1980s, Dutch towns and cities began introducing measures to make their streets more cycle-friendly. Initially, their aims were far from ambitious; the idea was simply to keep cyclists on their bikes. The Hague and Tilburg were the first to experiment with special cycle routes through the city. “The bicycle paths were bright red and very visible; this was something completely new,” says Godefrooij. “Cyclists would change their routes to use the paths. It certainly helped to keep people on their bikes, but in the end it turned out that one single bicycle route did not lead to an overall increase in cycling.” Subsequently, the city of Delft constructed a whole network of cycle paths and it turned out that this did encourage more people to get on their bikes. One by one, other cities followed suit. Nowadays the Netherlands boasts 22,000 miles of cycle paths. More than a quarter of all trips are made by bicycle, compared with 2% in the UK – and this rises to 38% in Amsterdam and 59% in the university city of Groningen. All major Dutch cities have designated “bicycle civil servants”, tasked to maintain and improve the network. And the popularity of the bike is still growing, thanks partly to the development of electric bicycles. The Cyclists’ Union has long ceased to be a group of random activists; it is now a respectable organisation with 34,000 paying members whose expertise is in worldwide demand. “We have achieved a lot, but we’re facing many new challenges,” says their spokesman, Wim Bot. “Many old cycle paths need to be reconstructed because they do not measure up to our modern standards – some are used by so many people that they are no longer wide enough. We have the problem of parking all those bikes, and we are thinking of new ways to create even more space for cyclists and pedestrians. What our cities really need is a totally new kind of infrastructure. They’re simply not fit for so much car traffic.” “The battle goes on,” says Godefrooij. “The propensity of urban planners to give priority to cars is still persistent. It’s easy to understand: an extra tunnel for cyclists means you have to spend extra money on the project. We’ve come a long way, but we can never lower our guard.”

On our way from the famous Schiphol airport to downtown Amsterdam via a series of tunnels.

Pot of gold? Not this particular time. The rainbow is there, in all its colours. But unlike the treasure of fairytales, this particular rainbow leads back to something as commonplace as a garden sprinkler. Nature paints it anyway.

A brand-new original story from a first-time author! A small fir tree named Windy has a single, overriding desire – to RUN! From his hilltop park, he watches people of all ages run and play among the trees. He wants nothing more than to do the same. He befriends a young girl who tries to teach him how to create his desire. A darling original children’s story - perfect for bedtime reading and dream-time creating afterwards. Written by Ustreya Miller. Illustrated by Debbie Bowen. Video produced and narrated by Peter Beamish.

Pleasure boats cruise up and down the Rideau canal, heading to and from downtown Ottawa on a warm July 22nd afternoon in 2021.

If you've never seen one of these before, you'll get a giggle out of it.

We are in the main theatre of the Celebrity Equinox, cruising through Alaska while periodically attending a spiritual seminar. Fresh air and icebergs are floating by outside while we listen to some otherworldly wisdom for an hour or two before everyone goes exploring for the day. Shot with my GoPro mounted on the stage.

Early December evening storm reflection in a city street puddle.

A lonely, weather-worn wooden park bench, dry and musty, surrounded by decaying autumn leaves devoid of almost all colour. And yet, is this not a thing of melancholy beauty?

My Ottawa, Canada backyard pond includes a trickling stream of water that constantly recirculates everything. During the day, birds, squirrels, chipmunks and other creatures regularly stop by for a drink or a bath. After getting myself a trail cam this summer, with motion-detection and night vision, I see that traffic is just as steady in the middle of the night. Cats, raccoons, skunks, mice … all enjoy a drink in this sheltered area. Check out last night’s visitors.

As seen from a cruise ship.

Where I live, black squirrels are much more common than grey squirrels. In fact, I didn’t know they were any kind of a deal until one day, I had a friend visiting from the USA and as we were driving through my neighbourhood, she said, “Stop the car! I think I just saw a BLACK squirrel!” I thought she was being funny until she told me she had never seen one before. But as I say, growing up here - most squirrels are black, with a few grey here and there. In fact, if you go to wikipedia and look up black squirrels, the photo they use is from Ottawa, Canada - where I live. It’s thought that the black is the result of an abnormal pigment gene. Several theories have surfaced as to why the "black morph" occurs, with some suggesting that the black morph is a selective advantage for squirrels inhabiting the northern ranges of the species, with the black-fur providing a thermal advantage over its non-melanistic counterpart. (Black keeps you warmer)

High Flight By John Gillespie Magee, Jr. (A sonnet) "Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth, And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence. Hovering there I've chased the shouting wind along and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air. "Up, up the long delirious burning blue I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace, where never lark, or even eagle, flew; and, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod the high untrespassed sanctity of space, put out my hand and touched the face of God." The poem, “High Flight”, was composed by Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee, Jr., an American serving with the Royal Canadian Air Force. He was born in Shanghai, China in 1922, the son of missionary parents, Reverend and Mrs. John Gillespie Magee; his father was an American and his mother was originally a British citizen. He came to the U.S. in 1939 and earned a scholarship to Yale, but in September 1940 he enlisted in the RCAF and was graduated as a pilot. He was sent to England for combat duty in July 1941. In August or September 1941, Pilot Officer Magee composed High Flight and sent a copy to his parents. Several months later, on December 11, 1941 his Spitfire collided with another plane over England and Magee, only 19 years of age, crashed to his death. His remains are buried in the churchyard cemetery at Scopwick, Lincolnshire.

Casting off the port of Malaga, Spain, we cruise past the friendly passengers aboard the German cruise ship, ‘Mein Schiff’, while being flanked by a sailboat or two and guided by a local pilot. Off to the next port and the next adventure.

I don’t know what it is but there’s something about it… It’s very satisfying in a soothing-to-completion, kind of way. I mean, here you are! I’m pretty sure you watched the entire thing. The chef in a restaurant had taped a tiled area that required painting in the industrial-sized kitchen and he decided to use his iPhone while he carefully picked at the corners of the tape, pinched it, and slowly peeled it away from the surface, revealing a clean, sharp, straight, edge over both tile and chrome surfaces. Oddly satisfying, as they say. And why are these things oddly satisfying? Because you're odd. No, no! Just kidding. According to Professor Robert Colombo, watching these types of videos causes the release of chemicals in the brain that bring about happiness and positivity – namely, serotonin and dopamine. ... So, in essence, we get pleasure from oddly satisfying videos as if we were actually cutting soap, crunching slime, popping plastic buddles, or peeling away tape, ourselves.

My backyard pond is tough and ready for today’s hail and ice onslaught. Just another September afternoon in Ottawa, Canada. My GoPro camera case took a bit of a beating and the microphone certainly recorded lots of direct hits. Ah, weather! And the things I do to get the shot. Gotta love it!

This person stopped their car on a lonely country road in Val des Monts, Quebec, Canada, and watched as a family of wild turkeys made their way across the divide.