Where Time Stands Still

Imagine a small island in a very big sea. Rocky cliffs on the south are carved by waves beating against the shore. Gnarled trees stand as witness to the prevailing winds.

A different world exists on the northern exposure. Sheltered by a larger island a mere canoe ride away, the land slopes into gentle bays where shellfish cling to rocks. Ducks and gulls paddle and dive for food. 
 

 Just steps from the water, a family once lived in a white wooden house with green shutters, and planted an apple orchard and a large strawberry garden. Years passed. The family drifted off the island and the land became a park.

The house drowses now in the sunshine, shut up tightly against the winter rains, waiting to open in summer when descendants of the original owners come to stay and provide information for boaters who stop by.

I stand in the long green grass and listen to hundreds of bees in the blossoms, busy about their work, unmindful of time and its effects. I think of all the bees that have buzzed over millenia and of the women who have stood, listening, while the warmth of the spring sun caresses hair and head. We hold that in common, those women and I: the desire to be in the moment, to take note of the change of seasons, of the aching beauty of our planet that is so often at odds with the horrors mankind inflicts upon it and upon each other.

A chorus line of daisies smiles up at me from the grass, innocent and cheerful regardless of any acknowledgement or scorn.
 

Grape hyacinths stand tall under an apple tree. Who planted them, I wonder? Did a child collect short stems in chubby hands and bring them as a gift to her mother?

 
Clumps of bluebells sway gently. In the cold morning a sleeping bee loses his grip and falls off his perch. He'll sleep until the sun's warmth awakens him and then he'll be about his work.

Flowering red currant is a spring time sight, beautiful bits of color among the forest's greens. We talk, we laugh, we explore. The past is very present. Time is suspended as we wander in wonder.



Russell Island is equally as beautiful in the spring as it is in the fall, featured here.

Out on the Water

Choppy waters and clouds on Saturday morning gave way to sunshine and smooth seas by noon. Russell Island, not too far away, was a great choice for our first boating outing of the season.  

On the more exposed south-east side of the island, waves rushed against the rocks, white foam subsiding into blue. 

Out in the channel the beaten metal water reflects light and cloud. In the distance a BC Ferry slips behind an island enroute to Victoria.
 

Driftwood lies on white shell beaches. Its crevices fill with bits of broken shells and stones that change places with every flow and ebb of the tide.
 

Tidal pools are fascinating places, filled with all sorts of sea life and the detritus left behind when clams and mussels are eaten by birds and other creatures.
 

A smaller ferry passes by enroute to Salt Spring Island. Soft focus moss in the foreground covers the rocks. 

After walking around the island (more photos to come later), we headed back to the boat for lunch, enjoying the lulling motion of the waves and the warm sunshine. A perfect start to spring and summer.

Linking to Mosaic Monday hosted by Judith of Lavender Cottage. 

On the Forest Floor

Look down. There's an amazing world on the forest floor. Ashley is interested in learning about mushrooms, preferably the edible kind, so she had me taking photos of all kinds of fungi, from various angles. I had my zoom lens on my camera because I was planning to snap big-picture shots. But we made it work.
 

This is the only one we positively identified - amanita muscaria, or fly agaric - not edible but highly photogenic.
 

Lichens and grasses clinging to a rocky cliff edge with the sun dancing on the water in the background. 
 

A natural collage with leaves, sticks, moss, fungi and arbutus berries for colour. The hand of a master artist.

There were hundreds of apples fallen on the ground and more in the trees. Orchards planted by a settler family who once provided the area with fresh strawberries and plenty of apples. Crisp and delicious and now abandoned.
 

We hadn't brought any bags from the boat, so Tim tied his jacket into a carrying bag, and I suggested filling my hood. Ashley snapped this photo as we headed back. Tonight we enjoyed a salad with apples, avocado, grapefruit and pomegrante seeds. Yum!

Weekend Fun

This photo makes me laugh every time I look at it. Aunty and Uncle with a niece and nephew, trying to get the littles to look at the camera. Real life.
 

Our Vancouver kids came over for the weekend and we all gathered on Saturday night for birthday festivities. We like to lump close birthdays together in a joint celebration. Here are two little hugging cousins with their matching blue eyes.
 

Mister F is now mobile and interested mostly in the things he can't have, like the fireplace and technology. He's awfully cute.
 

On Sunday we took Owen and Ashley out on the boat. Such a beautiful day. Blue skies, blue water, and all the glories of creation. 

This was the first boating trip with my new camera and I snapped away. The zoom lens enables me to take different kinds of shots.  Such fun. 
I did have a very scary moment. On the way back the water was a bit rough. I stood in the boat and took photos sort of leaning out a bit. Suddenly a wave hit and I stumbled, my knees going onto the seat and my camera forward. I managed to keep hold of it, but promptly put the neck strap around my neck.

"That's what it's there for," reminded Tim.
 

We stopped at Russell Island for a little exploration. I've written about this island before, here, and here. 
 

Rocky outcroppings, arbutus trees laden with berries, paths scattered with yellow maple leaves. So much loveliness.

These colours make my heart sing - the blues, whites, greys and tans in infinite shades. Intense.
 

And just look at the design on these Harlequin Ducks. Isn't it amazing? They are slate blue on the top, which doesn't show up well in this photo. Such a handsome pair.

The weekend feeling continues around here. Although Tim had to work today, he has tomorrow off for Remembrance Day. The Vancouver pair are still here so the pace is slow and relaxed. So lovely to visit. And the sun shines.

 

Island Stories

 So many islands dot this part of the globe. Some are large, some small. Each one has stories to tell. In my last post I mentioned our boating trip to Russell Island. The island was home to Hawaiian immigrants beginning in the 1870s. In 1901 Maria Mahoi inherited the island from her father who had cleared land for strawberries and planted an orchard. Maria and her husband built a house, the corner of which you see above. Just beyond is the water tower. 
 

Maria's island home is part of Canada's national park system. But each summer her descendants return to tell stories from the past. They live in the house and welcome visitors. No strawberries patch remains and much of the cleared land is covered with ferns, salal and tall fir trees. 

Wildflowers bloom along the path that circles this small island. The old wells have been capped and fresh water is brought from Saltspring Island. Maria served as midwife for women on Saltspring, paddling 15 minutes across the water. In the days before telephones and radios, I wonder how she was summoned. 
 

An old bicycle leans against a tree, picturesque in the dappled sunlight. If islands could be colour-coded, this one would be green. 
 

Maria raised her children on the island. Now her grandchildren and great grandchildren return to keep the past alive. Did they, too, play in the grassy clearing, pretending to be airplanes to entertain a Little Miss?

Celebrating Canada

There were parades and fireworks. We didn't see any of them. To celebrate this wonderful land of our birth we set out on the water. You'll probably see a lot of these on-the-water photos this summer. This day's destination: Russell Island, another of Canada's "Hawaiian Islands." 
 

 We paid attention to the signposts along the way - fixed aids to navigation, as above, and

floating aids to navigation, seen here. If you look closely you'll notice the fine spikes sticking up from the top of this buoy. Any guesses as to their purpose? Yep, to keep birds from alighting and making a mess of things. 
 

Once ashore we explored this tiny island. The easy trail is less than a 1 kilometre loop. We could walk it in a very short time, but why would we? There are beaches to explore, sea asparagus to crunch, tidal pools to study and wide vistas to admire. A little girl in her nautical print dress doesn't mind getting a little muddy. Life's too interesting to worry about staying neat and tidy.
 

The trail loops along the shoreline at sea level on one side and along steep rocky cliffs on the other. Dry arbutus leaves crackle underfoot and the lovely scent of sun-warmed forest rises from the ground.
 

We perch on the cliff edge, gazing southwards to the dozens of islands that dot this part of the map. In the far distance we see the still snow-capped peaks of the Olympic Peninsula. Miss S holds a brown leaf and with the power of imagination draws water from it that she pours into our hands. Water is scarce in the summertime on these rocky islands. Rain seldom falls and the grasses turn sere and golden. 

Tim takes the camera from me and snaps a photo of me with our eldest daughter. Is she really that much taller than I or are we standing on a slope? Hats and sunglasses are de rigueur on these excursions. 
 

A flower blooms on the edge of the cliff where water sparkles as it rushes upon the rocks below. I am thankful for this beautiful land in which I live, and for the freedom to believe and live as I choose. Happy Canada Day!