When i am working at home, as I am today, my office is a stand up desk in a window dormer that ingeniously is surround on all three sides with windows. This means I can see the forest off to my right, trees and neighbours down below me on the stretch of Miller Road we call “Seven Hills” and to my left is a glimpse of the Queen Charlotte Channel between our island and the continent of North America, more specifically the low ridge of Whytecliffe in West Vancouver.
Last night and this morning the sky has been what is sometimes called angry. It has been raining fierce and thick showers, broken by strong gusty winds and moments of serene calm. i photographed this band of light breaking in the distance over English Bay. It looks like the sky is clearing but it is just temporary. Another shower descended upon us ten minutes later and this view was completely obscured by fog and rain. And ten minutes after that it is clear again.
I love this time of year on Bowen Island. The waiting and darkness of Advent. The stormy and unstable weather that swells the creeks to breaking and invites the salmon home. The journeying through the cold and wind to small warm refuges of fire and friendship as we visit friends, share a pint at the pub or a quiet lunch at The Snug or Rustique. The island tucks in to its friendship. We come to remember that we need each other to move fallen trees, deliver firewood and check in on each other (my neighbour is 85 years old and basically housebound). There are very few visitors to our island and the beaches and forests are quiet, left only to the seals and the deer.
It echoes, I think, the best of what I am able to extract from this time in my life. And it reminds me that some days I am at the bottom of the U in all kinds of ways.