Home again home again, jiggity jog.
Our short sojourn up the BC mainland has come to an end – much too quickly (as always), but we have many hilarious and brilliant memories to keep us content and warm until our next hop to paradise.
The mercury has dipped like a salsa chip here on the west coast – if I had to wager a guess, I would say that it dropped at least ten degrees Celsius over the past few days, from sitting comfortably in the low-teens on Thursday, to flirting with just above zero this morning.
Something shifts when the weather changes.
Just this morning, out on my run, my interactions with nature seemed both comforting and slightly stilted.
Like my environs were a dense wool sweater – protection against the frost – that I hadn’t yet grown into.
I swear I could hear ever rustle of every leaf, every gust of wind winding its way through every branch of every tree. The piercing call of a steller’s jay, the haunting call of a loon, the unsure bark of a dog – everything somehow magnified and yet muffled, overwhelming but also out of reach.
The rhythm of my breathing, a friendly, reassuring constant, despite the slight discomfort in my little lungs, adjusting to those first big gulps of frigid air.
My favourite route – high hills, blind curves, douglas firs. The sea salt air tickling my (red, running) nose.
Sometimes I run so fast I cry; tears streaming down my face, propelled by the wind, the cold, my speed.
Sometimes I don’t want to blink.
Because if I blink, it will be gone.
Into the woods.
So there you have it beauty cats.
Memories, for another day.
We are now back at home, hunkered down. The fire roars and the fat rain drops coat the world a cool, slick, black.
What did you all get up to for the weekend?
Hang up those wet coats, and rest awhile.