If you ever come to visit, I’ll make you a coffee and ask if you wanted to walk to the beach, there’s a little cove not far from our house. Coffee and beach walks are two of my favourite things. Seashells and coffee, can that be a love language?
I’ll have my phone in hand – not to compulsively check those updates – but because it’s such a convenient little camera. And besides, where we’re going there is no service.
As we step out the front door, look! Over the fire-throne bush, a fluttering cabbage butterfly. I’ll tell you how when I was a kid I referred to them as “cabbage patch” butterflies. No one corrected me. I guess the adults thought it was cute. In truth, it wasn’t until I was grown myself that I realised my error. Now I call them cabbage patch butterflies on purpose to see if anyone notices.
We walk to the end of the street – look at that light! I love how it shines through fir trees illuminating the miner’s lettuce. Kelly chlorophyll.
I’ll tell you of the tiniest fawns I ever did see in our yard the other morning. J called my outside – I didn’t have time to reach for a camera. Barely larger than rabbits, 2 of them. Momma so small, only a year or 2 herself. They ran around the yard, wild eyed, we’d startled them. Into a dead end corner, an altercation with Fritz (the cat) and then onto path to the front of the yard and into the neighbour’s safe haven forested yard.
Look, someone’s written C O A S T onto a fence. Should we add W E S T? That would be wrong wouldn’t it. Part of my wants too…
We’ll cross the street and enter the trail to the beach. The ground is soft here, dirt underfoot instead of concrete.
Mind the banana slug! Hello friend.
We’ll tromp down the wooden stairs, and pause to admire the nootka roses that create a tunnel. Enclosing us in dappled green light. Surrounding us with the scent of nature’s wild perfume. I wish I could bottle this scent. I’d dab it behind my ears.
Mind your step on the logs. Are not the colours, textures and order of nature endlessly fascinating? I want to paint my home in this palette.
I read the reason people find the beach so peaceful is due to negatively charged ions that come off the ocean. I know I feel calm and relaxed here. What do you think? Scientific fact or hocus pocus? Lets just stand a breathe for a moment anyways. Inhale deeply. The tang of salt in the air. It feels soooo good.
We’ll stroll down to the water’s edge. Look! Washed up by that last wave, a little piece of sea glass. It looks like a good one – bonfire glass maybe. I’ve found some really old pieces here – worn smooth and frosted by a century of tumbling in and out with the tides. What do you think this used to be? Who do you think owned it? I like to imagine the stories of what once was.
Feeling up for a scramble? It’s not a hard one, I promise. We’ll climb along that rocky outcrop to my favourite perch above the cove. From here you can look out into the strait, watch the boats underway. You can see the lighthouse of Limekiln. If we had a telescope we could probably see the whales.
the whistle of a humming bird claiming his patch of forest and sky
wing beats of a passing mew gull
talon scrape of crow on a branch above us
hum of bumble bee
yourself slowing down
your breath traveling in and out of your lungs
58 degrees of sunbeams warming your skin
a flirty ocean breeze stealing that warmth
I’m so glad you’re here with me.