A larger, meal-sized slice of the beauty that is Vancouver Island. Running water holds magic in its sounds.
Pirate, photographer and optimist. Viewing life through a young heart and vintage glass. All photos are my own.
95 followers 27 following 301 posts
view profile on Bluesky
A larger, meal-sized slice of the beauty that is Vancouver Island. Running water holds magic in its sounds.
Travel
A paean to the woman who opened her home and heart to me. This strong, beautiful, kind and talented angel bought my soul back for me.
Thank you very much!
Many thanks, my friend!
Perfect!!!
“The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.” -Isak Dinesen I have known all three in perhaps the perfect ratio. A charmed life punctuated by moments of terror has made me who I am.
“He’s just a boy, pretending to be a wolf, pretending to be king” ― Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are
Tomb, any colour, but moss for the win!
“Egret things” for the win.
You are blessed to have that so close to home!
I used a short macro extension tube with a vintage Super Takumar 28m f3.5 in the woods a few days ago, and the results were good. A quiet day on the Englishman River flood channels.
A slice of one of my favourite forests, along the Englishman River and her flood plains and spawning channels.
Gorgeous, Nicole!!!
Tidal flats on Gabriola Island. I think I will always need to be close to the ocean.
The gentle bokeh of a fast vintage lens some 60 years old is perfect for the woods. Man and dog both were made to feel at home.
“Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.” ― Aberjhani, The River of Winged Dreams A man at peace with himself, in the woods that offer both grace and beauty.
You are so wonderfully twisted.
Wonderful!!!
Summer days, summer ways. A dip in the ocean at Drumbeg Provincial Park on Gabriola Island. This gulf island never fails to make me smile.
“Sunset is the opening music of the night.” — Mehmet Murat ildan Smoky sunset on Gabriola Island.
Gabriola Island’s beauty is not all in the beaches and gorgeous stone forms. The inland portions are a rambling rainforest.
Many thanks!
Simple, and beautiful!
The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths it has its pearls too Vincent Van Gogh
“Every Sunday he’d walk alone Casting pebbles at the passing waves Plunge in brine, cleanse his pride And a stronger man remains The crunch of shale and distant sails Ached within his bones Seeing ships upon the tide Bound for ports unknown” Redgum - Gladstone Pier
“If the bards of old the true has told The sirens have raven hair. But over the earth since art had birth, They paint the angels fair.” ― L.M. Montgomery, Emily’s Quest Seems that I have may have heeded the call of the siren this time.
A man who is not afraid of the sea will soon be drowned, he said, for he will be going out on a day he shouldn’t. But we do be afraid of the sea, and we do only be drownded now and again. John Millington Synge
Seaside scenes, seen.
“I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony.” ― Gustave Flaubert, November Evening light off Gabriola Island. A vision of heaven.
At the edge of the island, looking seaward. It calls to me.
Where are you now? Entirely likely BC misses you, as well.
“Poetry isn’t an island, it is the bridge. Poetry isn’t a ship, it is the lifeboat. Poetry isn’t swimming. Poetry is water.” ― Kamand Kojouri Here on this island home away from home, I am always so close to the water, that source of life.
Absolutely!
Thank you!
Thank you!
It is perhaps the most original playing I have come across in the last while.
Yes, and almost always in that order.
A gorgeous gulf island off the coast of Canada’s west coast. Heavenly.
youtu.be/h6lhSOzsjMw?... Maybe not beautiful to all, but an absolute heartfelt paean to a late father.
Smoke from the wildfires on Vancouver Island made for a sadly beautiful evening on Gabriola Island. Blessed and grateful, as always.
There were days when we simply wandered until we were hungry and tired. Life is full of mystery and adventure if you will but look.
Perfection.
“We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.” ― Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon
Like any good checklist, I am about half way through at this stage.
The most feral of all the feral witches.
A wonderful week long road trip to Silverton on Slocan Lake in the Kootenays. My brother and his wife hosted us, and our time was lovely. Thanks to @jack.pura for putting us up and putting up with us.
Are you tracking me?
Aren’t they just?
Days we wandered. Days we wondered.
A wonderful few days in Silverton, being hosted by my brother and his wife. What a beautiful slice of the world.
The oldest gnome bones.
It is said that where the water falls, peace rises. I concur. Blessed and grateful.
The sunset, an ocean, an open heart. A recipe for contentment.
And behind.
Island days, island ways, in the rainforest where the wild things are. These two dogs are ready and willing to do anything.
My vintage Super Takumar lens captures natures last kiss for the night. Sunset over the ocean is always magical.
A mountain is composed of tiny grains of earth. The ocean is made up of tiny drops of water. Even so, life is but an endless series of little details, actions, speeches, and thoughts. And the consequences whether good or bad of even the least of them are far-reaching. Swami Sivananda
“He who does not wish for little things does not deserve big things.” ― Belgian proverb Poppy seed harvest on Gabriola Island. Magical little things.
I love it!
Crazy why you can do with so few words. Wonderful!
Georgia Joy supervises the work. Quality control is always a priority in this home.
I’m hoping that this photo alone will convince the boss.
Monochrome Monday in the woods.
Dreaming and scheming. Occasionally plotting.
Ha!
Stagleap, what a great name!!!
“In this primordial quiet, every sound is an awakening that soothes and invites one to savour the hidden magic of a new beginning.” ― David Passarelli, Mountain poems: Musings on stone, forest, and snow Here’s to new beginnings, my friends.
Old glass, fresh eyes, open heart.
“We’ll laugh like little children telling secrets Probably cry like old women drinking gin Because I’ve done my tour of duty now I’m home And I ain’t leaving here again” @jasonisbell - Tour Of Duty
Mansion, gothic.
“One day you will look back and see that all along, you were blooming.” Morgan Harper Nichols Home in the village, the garden is ablaze in colours.
Two weeks at the cabin. Mostly off-leash. On one hike, the smaller one, Georgia, warned us of a bear ahead! They were in heaven.
Sweetest babies.
Oh, yes…
A small lake on a summer’s day, and two small dogs. The math may not make sense to a physicist or physician, but my heart was full, all four chambers.
Days of wonder, days of joy. All that we need to be truly happy is inside us already.
Thank you!
Just got the perfect hat. Thanks for the tip.
Monochrome Monday it is. Kwotlenemo from the North side. Paradise found.
The dog days of summer.
The simplicity of cabin living is intoxicating. It is our tradition to start the summer with two weeks at the cabin, which sets the tone for the rest of the season.
I am a sucker for a good haunting.
An evening paddle on Kwotlenemo Lake, in the interior near Lillooet. Home of the Xaxli’p First Nation, and to a host of wildlife. Two weeks of wild strawberries and saskatoons. Loons were often the only sound at dusk.
Late afternoon wander on the traditional lands of the Xaxli’p First Nation. Two weeks with no phone service, and no internet [other than the trips to town], just a stack of books and some crossword puzzles. Heaven.
“For the contented minds, lakes are oceans!” ― Mehmet Murat ildan I am blessed, and I am grateful every day. This spot was home for the last two weeks, and it soothed my soul.
One day the dragonflies appear sudden as the sun. Speed and softness, they lash sky to air in silent seams. One’s barred wings and abdomen are pressing to the warm dock’s slats. Another lights on the Chekhov book you bought me, not realizing, like everything, it is a short story, too.” ― Ken Craft
Fireweed, as its name suggests, rises from the ashes. It is my spirit plant, being a recipient of new life, and second chances.
I am blessed to have it all, then.
Absolutely perfect!!! Helios FTW.
There were days when the warm summer breezes moved the tall grasses ever so slightly, mesmerizing me for hours. Classic Super Tak 50mm f1.4.
It is that!!!
The smaller of two local lakes, Chilhil Lake is always a great destination for a hike and some off-leash for the dogs. This area is the traditional lands of the Xaxli’p indigenous community.
Six days into a two week sojourn to the remote lake cabin. I am 1/4 way into my third book! That is a great measure of how relaxing it is. The hammock calls…
Fireweed. It harkens back to my younger years in the central BC woods.
Summer starts this way every year, now. Two weeks off grid and on-point. This is easily one of the most relaxing places I have ever spent a fortnight. In my younger days I spent almost three weeks in a remote village on an island off the north tip of Sumatra, Indonesia. Comparable!!!
There were days when the driving snow pelted us, feeling like little knives upon our skin. Those days we hunkered, held each other a bit closer, but still loved the nature of it all.
