This Week

I’ve been taking early morning walks for over a year now. I love that time of day; full of potential and promise. Many times the walks become photo sessions when the lighting is magnificent, and the colour so enchanting, I can’t help myself. And, since my early retirement a few years ago, mornings have become more special, not having to rush out the door at seven a.m. (Really love that I don’t have to jump into my boat and into a dark, wet, November-January storm at seven a.m. anymore!) The early morning is when I feel most introspective, creative, and inspired, my energy is engaged. During my working life I would get up an hour early just so I could have that time to journal and think, and it seemed too soon I was off to the races and a busy day.

It’s also a time I love to be alone, undisturbed, no distractions. I’m married, (30 years!) and it is rude to ignore one’s spouse upon waking. And there is breakfast to make, and dishes to do. Luckily I’m partnered with a lovely man who understands that when I return from my walk, (accompanied now with my four legged companion, Squilly) and before yoga and breakfast, I love to sit bundled up on the front porch with a cup of coffee (yes, it’s been possible to do this all winter on Vancouver Island) and write my morning pages and plan my day. A luxury, I know, and it doesn’t go unappreciated, or is taken for granted.

For this post I’m sharing some photographs from my morning walks. Currently I use an iPhone 8 and I use the edit tool to achieve my interpretation of what I see. Never filters. How many sunrise photos does one need to take? Apparently a lot. Here are a few. It’s been cool to watch the sun’s tracking over the winter too, coming back from far south of me, over the pulp mill Harmac, and moving towards the North end of Gabriola Island, as seen in the bottom right, taken yesterday morning. Happy Easter ~

Morning walks

Taking a daily early morning walk is a practice I’ve begun to do, and find I am relishing this time I spend; pre-dawn, just enough light to see where my foot falls and where the pot holes lie. Where I live we have gravel roads, and only a couple of street lights. There is no traffic, no sidewalks. Only sea, and trees, and sky.

Living on a small island has a multitude of benefits, one of which is the carefree ability to walk at any hour of day or night in relative safety. Here I am among an extended family of sorts. As I pass houses I know many of the people inside who are just beginning to stir, a light being turned on, a fire being stoked in the wood stove. Many of them I’ve known for over thirty years.

If I hear a shuffle behind me in the dark, it is a deer moving from its night resting place, or an owl swooping from its oak branch perch, or just the wind.

What I love about my morning walk is the solitary time. Because it’s dark outside I’m not distracted, my mind and imagination can work. I can move my body in a rhythmical stride and it becomes almost a walking meditation. I will encounter no one on the road either, not until seven perhaps, when people are on their way to the ferry or their boats, or bringing their dogs out for a walk, or joggers.

On my most recent walk, I had a clear insight into a perspective on the story I’m currently working on. By the time day breaks I have made my way to the South end of my island to watch the sun rise, and I find some inspiration in some photographic opportunities, feeding my creativity further. These walks are like an “Artist’s Date” for me.

“Bridges”
Early morning rainbow, looking west over Nanaimo

And as the sun rises I feel all the opportunity and potential that a new day brings with it. I’m always lifted by this, optimistic for what I could do in a day, eager to start, even if I don’t start anything of note other than the laundry. And I’m grateful even so.

Day dawning over the gulf Islands