A Hornby November

Grey rules the sky this Fall, a grey reflected by the mirror of the water surrounding Hornby.   It brings greater appreciation though for the pumpkin pie of trees along the south west side of the island and a  welcome break for the armies of downward cast mushroom gatherers revelling in this year's bounty.

September's Sandpiper

The summer crowds have packed up their excitement and the ducks reclaim their court.  And while still warm the morning air holds the promise of Autumn sweaters and wholesomeness.  This life is always the letting go of something dear to embrace something different and while not new this cycle of change learned from years of walking the same line is comforting.  Whatever the day and new season bring I know I will meet it with wonder.

I Miss Her Everyday


1995-2014

Sophie lived where she loved the most.  From her first time here in 1998 running up and down Helliwell at full force, unstoppable and unflappable, to when we moved here and she could roam around in the backyard (and sometimes much further), blind, deaf and completely safe.  Oh, and happy.  She lived well and I am so thankful to our Hornby home for giving her such freedom.


Late Summer, Hornby Island

The mornings are cool before the warmth of the day and night comes too soon.  Crickets rub their legs and our fruit trees ripen.  And the perfect time for a day sailing.   Feeling blessed.



Super Moon Rising Over The Salish Sea

Sometimes I wonder whether I could imagine anything more beautiful or magical than what supernatural Hornby has to offer.  And then other times I know I couldn't even if I tried.  


Summer Wild

A bit of fragrance always clings to the hand that gives you roses.  In our backyard, the fragrance is clinging to the air.  Summer is so good.


May Long Weekend

 The soft start to Summer.  Its amazing how quickly Spring grows up.

Backyard Sunset

I've fallen in love, again.

Better Than Netflix

There is a new watering hole on Hornby and it's been packed since its opening.  Right outside our dining room window, the antics of these thirsty daredevils' fierce sibling rivalry keep me rapt with focused attention.



Insomniac's Dream

 Waking up in the middle a Hornby night is easily forgiven when I am met with amusement.  Like last night when I looked up in the near absolute darkness to watch the moon blush red hot.  

Country Comforts

The simplest pleasures are most often the best and one of mine is drying our sheets in the briny young air of Spring and looking forward all day to falling asleep. 

Backyard Thrills on a Sunny Spring Afternoon


I've definitely got Spring Fever. 



Spring Sunrise over Sandpiper

Pictures just can't do justice to the perfect calmness of an island morning accented by the combined reveille of loons, geese, ducks, and morning thrush.  Only closing my eyes can bring the feeling back to life.


Spring

 I rose this morning early as usual, and went to my desk.  But it's spring, and the thrush is in the woods, somewhere in the twirled branches, and he is singing.  
And so now I am standing by the open door.  And now I am stepping down on the grass.  I am touching a few leaves.  I am noticing the yellow butterflies move together, in a twinkling cloud, over the field.
And I am thinking: maybe just looking and listening is the real work.  Maybe the world, without us, is the real poem. - Mary Oliver

Sunrise Over The Salish Sea

On Hornby Island, everyone knows Galleon Beach is famous for its sunsets.  People gather in droves to watch the sun dip behind Vancouver Island and celebrate the beginning of the night.  But over here on the east facing side of the island we share the secret pleasure of sunrise; the meditative start to the day and the mounting excitement as the sun climbs into the sky over the mirror of the sea.  Seeing nature electrify the day inspires me to do the same, making sure I give just as good as I got.

Welcome Spring!

Let the good times roll.

Every Time It Snows I Still Hear Joyce

"A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window.  It had begun to snow again.  He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight.  The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward.  Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland.  It was falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves.  It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried.  It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns.  His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead." - The Dead, James Joyce

All Things Being Equal

A good friend challenged me to go to Helliwell and look away from the grandeur to take in the smaller beauty instead.  I must admit it was difficult task especially on a sunny day in February when the towering mountains on Vancouver Island were covered with fresh snow.  But pretty soon my eyes readjusted and I could see the merit in her request.  




Storm Break

I'm slowly realizing a west coast secret; there is nothing like walking inside the storm.  The combined thrill of wind pushing you and cold rain washing your face, the surf filling your ears and nothing but grey in sight.  As a kid my mom never let me outside during the rain.  This feels like my second chance to finally get out and play.  

Sandpiper In Winter

One of our best New Year's resolutions is promising ourselves to get outside everyday this year.  I'm learning that there really is no bad day at the beach.  The fresh sea air, the solitude, the lunar landscape and the quiet rush of the wind and surf make our local beach a soothing salve for the winter doldrums.




Our Backyard

After living here four years, we finally discovered the web of trails that lead up the mountain and across the island right across Central Road.   Literally five minutes out our front door and you are lost to the world among the beauty of the forest.