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A Century of Roots, An Inspired Future

Over a century in one place doesn’t dull its magic. If anything, the seasons deepen it. Each spring, summer, fall, and winter in Kelowna stirs a different kind of inspiration, reminding us why people choose to plant roots here. With that inspiration comes responsibility to shape a future that honours the valley that shaped us.

Foreward

Say “Kelowna” and we share a shorthand.  Late summer evenings on the lakefront; Knox Mountain holding the skyline; the September exhale when visitors drift home.  I think our early residents and city builders shared a similar shorthand – but our current comforts required pioneering grit and determination.   

The Turri family arrived in Kelowna from Tuscany in 1912.  Like other Italian immigrant families before them, they arrived with more hope than plans. Opportunity and responsibility arrived together: the chance to help shape how we live here for the next century, and the duty to do it with care.

More than a century later, this same optimism still calls to me. I feel it in each of the Okanagan’s four seasons, and in the deep family legacy before me. What follows is a year in Kelowna through the seasons – moments that have anchored generations in this valley.

Spring

Spring shows up in the small things first. The farmers’ market moves outdoors. Tee boxes open. Then magnolias, lilacs and arrowleaf balsamroot burst into colour. Sidewalks become busy again. Running errands with my dad, we never made it a block without chatting with a client, colleague or family friend.   

Growth has stretched our skyline, but familiarity still weaves through our sidewalks and trails. What we build matters – how we hold these intangibles in balance matters even more. 

Renewal and resolve here isn’t an idea; it’s the stubborn green that comes back… building a prosperous city is not argued from a distance, but working shoulder-to-shoulder.

Summer 

Summer is quintessential Kelowna – and without a doubt my favourite season. Sundrenched hills, bustling patios, strawberries from my aunt and uncle’s patch on Benvoulin.  Visitors arrive, and the city swells.   

Kelowna has become an urban magnet, but still behaves like a small town when it matters. In 2003, the Okanagan Mountain Park fire turned the sky to copper and left the ridgeline bare. We measured days by smoke and ash – and by neighbours opening doors.  We showed up for each other. 

Renewal and resolve here isn’t an idea; it’s the stubborn green that comes back. It’s the same determination that built the Myra Canyon trestles, where my great-grandfather laboured.  We’ll need that muscle again, together – because building a prosperous city is not argued from a distance, but working shoulder-to-shoulder. 

Fall

Fall arrives and brings what is often a local’s ideal season. Crowds thin. Afternoons stay warm while evenings are perfectly cool. Harvest colours abound. Apples are picked and grapes are pressed.   

Fall also invites planning and reflection. Taking inspiration for what’s possible and being driven by what’s required. A century in one place doesn’t promise certainty; it sharpens responsibility to lean in. To welcome newcomers, support entrepreneurs, and help families thrive.

Winter

Winter has a way of teaching patience. Slowing down. On clear mornings, the westside hills turn a rich gold under a lower sun. The lake lies flat, as if it’s listening. Skates carve the Stuart Park rink. Trees light Bernard Avenue. Many of us measure the season by first tracks at Big White. A few inches of new snow can reset your balance and your outlook.   

Deep family roots don’t hold you back – they hold you steady. Winter reminds us of how we can make room for people to belong in every season – both neighbours and those at the margins.

The task now is to shape this valley with enough humility and imagination that, another century forward, someone will look out from Knox Mountain, recognize the city, and still be inspired by its evolution.

Afterword

My family has been here long enough to understand that roots don’t keep you still; they hold you steady while you grow. Kelowna is not perfect. It wasn’t in 1912, and it isn’t in 2025. There are honest questions about civic prosperity, affordability, or the readiness for fire seasons we wish would pass us by. This valley also offers more than enough to answer with inspired action.

That’s the word I keep: rooted. Not unmoving, but held, nourished, and tasked with growth. Whether you’re a fourth-generation local or future neighbour, I hope you feel the same current of inspiration.  

 The task now is to shape this valley with enough humility and imagination that, another century forward, someone will look out from Knox Mountain, recognize the city, and yet still be inspired by its evolution.