Spent a day with a good friend, then another day with my sister as we walked through Little Qualicum falls, and also rummaged in a vintage store where found a sweet small cake stand. Then I spent a bit of time wondering the abandoned exhibition grounds at Beban Park while Bob got his vaccination, and took some photos. All in all a recharging week off the little rock I call home and found some inspiration in my escapades.
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 ~
Almost there. And wow has this month flown by. And even though our own family Solstice gathering was waylaid by our nemesis The Evil Vid (…um, Covid 19) I still spent copious hours in my kitchen baking stuff. Much of that has been sent to my son and his family, my daughter is a baker so she doesn’t need any goodies- she’s well stocked, and some I’d given as goody bags to neighbours. But I did get a little carried away. Biscottis anyone?
And aside from the fact that I sent out all my Happy Solstice cards spelled with Happy Soltice, this isolated winter season went without a hitch. You would think I would’ve caught the mistake after the first card, but no half measures for me, all in or nothing. Apparently.
The book of short stories came out, ( ahem, thank heaven for spell check) the one with two of my submissions. It’s satisfying to see it in print, somehow feels validating. The neighbours that launched the project managed to raise about five hundred dollars so far towards our Beacon House renovations, not a bad start.
I will include both stories in my next two posts. As for any other writing – I haven’t done any. Nor have I set foot in my studio. Baking seems to have filled my creative needs rather well over these weeks. And my waist line. The biggest threat to my risk of expansion is the fudge I make each year. But I was clever this time, only making what I was sending away as gifts…no wait, there was the first test batch that, well, had to be checked for smooth, creamy texture. Can’t be gifting grainy fudge and a mis-spelled card.
The cards I sent were photos, mounted on card stock, that I had taken. Some from my poppy series; the year my otherwise dormant front veg garden sprung up in an amazing swell of vibrant flowers, and then also some I took while walking on Newcastle, a large provincial park island adjacent to our island.
Now I find myself in that Netherland between Solstice and New Year. That fuzzy zone where the day of the week is inconsequential. Do I eat, sleep, or learn a new language. It feels like a holding pattern, waiting for the starting gun, my feet against the running block…tick, tick, tick. But when the ball drops at the stroke of 2021 (2021! Can you believe it?) what am I expecting? And why put too much expectations on that stroke of midnight; which I don’t normally, but somehow this year’s end feels deserving of a fresh start in every sense of the meaning. Here’s to brighter days ahead ~
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.
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.
In my garden this spring, a large orange poppy releases its petals to the soil below.
I was overwhelmed with a plethora of wild poppies in my front garden this spring, and lucky me. They proved a fascinating photo study. Capturing the clear slant of the morning sun as it rose over my cedar hedge gave me gorgeous opportunities to explore the poppies crepe like translucence.
I have a large portfolio of these beauties that I will share over the next few weeks~
I use only my iPhone 8. No filters.
Boarding the B.C. Ferry in Departure Bay that takes Bob and me to Horseshoe Bay on mainland Vancouver we begin the drive to Kimberley in the East Kootenays, an area over 27,000 sq. kilometers in south-east British Columbia stretching from Spilimacheen down to the Montana border and lies between Banff and the Kootenay lake; tucked between the Purcell, Monashee and Selkirks of the Columbia Mountain system and the Canadian Rockies.
From Horseshoe Bay we drove on the # 1 hwy to Hope then took the Coquihalla or the #5 as far as Kamloops, then back on the #1 that took us up into the high mountains and through the Glacier National Park to Golden where we spent a night, making it an eleven hour drive. (not including the two-hour ferry ride). From there it would only be a two and a half hour drive following hwy 95 directly south down to Kimberley.
Last year I was here at the end of May and first weeks of June and it was HOT, but May? I’ve been here for four days and although cooler it’s been sunny and windy. Friends back on the coast are still getting lots of rain and single digit temps. Too bad. 🙂
I’ve tagged along with Bob because he is working again in the area our daughter and her partner live, so we can get in some visiting time, me more than he unfortunately as his hours are long without days off for the two weeks we’re here. A visit made even more special because our daughter is in her second trimester with their first baby! They had also booked a week “pre-delivery” vacation to Mexico that coincided with our second week here so we’ll happily look after the four-legged grand babies Dexter and Jackson, their two chihuahuas, for a week. When they return Bob will be finished his work and we’ll have more relaxed time to spend a few extra days with them.
More to follow!
A thousand words. His story is in the central placement of the cracked hearth, the brick and mortar, the rectangle opening on the one side of the hearth, the space between the hearths’ lamps, the blue sphere above, the ladder against the wall, the small yellow halo near his forehead, the free-form black paint strokes in the painting before him, the broom handle, the light filled open door, the placement of his face.
I was taking some Insurance pictures of the little house my good friend here is renovating to sell, and what surprised me later when I looked at this photo was an immediate realization that the array of random objects convey so much about this man. That it’s rife with symbology. Now, I understand that a home will of course contain items that represent the individual who abides within, and because I know his story well from a 20 year friendship, in this image it’s not only the objects but also their placement within the framing that jumped out at me.
He stays in this house only occasionally once or twice for short periods in a given year when he is not traveling elsewhere – which is most of the time- so it is sparse, containing just the basics.
I have been drawn to the clouds lately, I suppose when I began looking up more often at the amount of Chem trails; their long straight lines across the sky’s expanse. Then I became fixated on the dynamics of these straight line clouds juxtaposed with the “organically” shaped clouds.
Now I’m just fixated on clouds.