It’s with the trees that I am truly comfortable
How filled I was with rum and whiskey and how sad I felt – as we made our way along the moonlit pavements of Victoria – to see five grand deer stepping hesitantly across the concrete. Indeed, with my blood so heavily infected with liquor, the sorrow of the sight brought me close to tears. The city isn’t good for them – the deer – just as it isn’t for me. But we persist, for one reason or another, against our yearnings.
One day I hope for my instincts and my actions to immaculately align; one day I want to see these very five deer deep in the Island forest.
Goodnight Henrietta – heron on a rock
Every night I look out of my window. There she is, stood lonely atop the lichen-stippled rock, surrounded by the gentle swash of the Juan de Fuca waves.
‘Good night, Henrietta,’ I’ll bid on occasions, whilst on others I will merely nod.
It is, of course, likely that she – with her curved neck and fine bill – knows little of my observing eyes, but it feels right to acknowledge others; heron or human, featherless or otherwise.
A walker loves a good tree
Be it an oak, sycamore, maple or larch, there is something unquenchably charming about a lone tree. Lured in by its stance, its intertwining branches, the palate of its leaves and the animals within, we find a spot atop its roots and beside its trunk, resting for some moments beneath its grandeur.
When we are ready, we continue on.
How often have you thought about climbing to the highest precipice within your reach to remember the sensation and the rawness of nature, only to fall short several steps before tying your boots, living off the thought and neglecting your instincts?
I’ve done it. But soon there comes a time when you can’t break another promise. You leap into your car, you jump on your bike, or you take to your feet with a boundless energy that will only subside once you have reached your crown. Climb to the craggiest cliff edge, scarred with hacked-off boulders, bowing trees and a relenting wind, as roaring waves crash into the rock face a hundred metres beneath your feet. Feel the sea spray across your face, smell the ocean and remember, that at one time, deep into the depths of your blood line, this was once your home.