I live alone with my preschooler in an off-grid cabin on a remote island off the coast of British Columbia.
"Don't wish me happiness I don't expect to be happy all the time....It's gotten beyond that somehow. Wish me courage and strength and a sense of humor. I will need them all." Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Tuesday, 26 April 2016
I am picking up branches and cones and my daughter is playing beside me. My hands smell of trees and earth. I am immersed in my surroundings. It's cooler here and the light a bit subdued. Standing above us huddled together like a prayer circle are mature Douglas fir trees. Their arms are outstretched over young trees rooted in the fallen firs lying with their guts wrenched open and red earth spilling out of them. "Look," my daughter says excitedly. She hands a nest to me. It has blown out of these outstretched limbs in the winter winds. While some of the nest material is gone much of it remains. There is a piece of cotton string, blue tarp threads, clear plastic shreds, rootlets, and feathers on the rim. They are intertwined together delicate yet strong preserving this piece of woven history. A story untold. When we get home we make a wreath for the cabin door.