…and a pop of colour! A short post this week, and mostly focused on…a lack of focus that has been very pleasant.
On our rambles around the coast, we’ve been lucky enough to enjoy warm weather and clear skies. So far, we’ve been caught in the rain just once, and that’s fine by us. When skies haven’t been clear, and the mist and fog has rolled in, or there’s a bank just offshore, it has been hard to see where the water stops and the sky starts.
Staring out into the ocean, it is all blurred, no precise definition. The horizon disappears from view, the visible world shrinks, and feels more immediate.
When we’re out in the mountains, the long views and far reaching vistas are one of the many delights of that particular geography. Here on the coast, the fog and mist limit your view, creating something shifting – and fun to photograph – a land and seascape that is captivating to experience.
The photographs this week were taken on different days, and all were an attempt to find the line between sea and sky. It is there, somewhere, but indistinct, and we enjoyed not seeing it. We took our eyes off the horizon, became unfocused and walked on the edge. Unfocused and on the edge – sounds dangerous?! Not really. Look at what’s in front of you. It’s alright, you won’t fall off.
Sometimes, there is too much attention paid to being sharp, defined, and having clarity. Those big ideas and far reaching vision. Not too much of that here this week (or most weeks) – let go, don’t zoom in, drift, dream, and be a bit wooly. Life can be all the better for that, from time to time, he says, somewhat vaguely…
Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!
Our first afternoon in the woods was hot and humid, but under the canopy oh so green and lush. The trail was simple enough to pick out, sometimes rocky underfoot, sometimes grassy, and sometimes earthy, with changes in the terrain every few metres. Exposed slopes and clearings were bug free with a slight sea breeze. In these open areas, golden grass was almost like straw in the strong sun.
Into the trees and away from the bluffs overlooking the sea, it was not as hot, the air was still and rather humid, with the whine of an occasional mosquito. I wasn’t bitten, so Mrs. PC was spared the whine of an old PlaidCamper.
Relative to steepness of slope, soil coverage and the presence of large rock outcrops, the trees were a mix of short and gnarled to tall and gnarled, growing in tight groups with dense undergrowth, or further apart with little brush beneath. Pacific Madrones, Garry Oaks, and Western Red Cedars – a wonderfully varied yet cohesive green, grey, rusty and yellow landscape to wander through (yup, I’ve been reading my tree books!)
The Tsawout trails got us up and out in a series of wonderful hiking afternoons. Tramping through the woods, coming across little coves, stopping to admire views, tree shapes, and textures, it was a special place, and we had a very happy time exploring it.
Salt Spring Island is a splendid location to be on holiday! One (or two?) more Salt Spring posts in the next week or so, and then we’ll have to leave, sniff.
Steady driving on near empty roads through breathtaking scenery, with sunshine and snow, rivers and lakes, and mountains and valleys helped to restore a sense of balance with each passing kilometre. We appreciated it then, and, with hindsight, appreciate it even more now…
Was it so very quiet, though? To be fair, when we took a short hike around Lac Beauvert, the honking of hundreds of geese could hardly be described as quiet – far from it – but it was soothing to see and hear something real rather than fabricated. It made sense. So did the industry and purpose we saw from a dipper busily splashing and feeding along the banks of a small stream. The beating and rushing of wings as geese flew in organized Vs straight over our heads was a wonderful sound.
Might I suggest you get outside this weekend? Turn off the intrusive soundtrack of recent days? Hug a tree, jump a stream, climb a hill, skim some stones, hike in the woods? Remember, there is a reality beyond our political constructs – this reality needs our help – and it sustains our conceited constructs. Go on, go out there, appreciate what we’ve got and hope we still have it in the years to come.
