The golden grassland

It is hard to believe how fast time travels on by. One minute, I am wandering through a field where wild raspberries grow wide. The next, I am here in my backyard, writing in the garden, watching the August sky melt into the horizon. I still have thousands of photographs from our camping trip on the Island, but I have been too busy smelling the flowers and lamenting about their imminent departure to write blog posts.

There I was, running through the golden grassland, waiting for raspberries to ripen, listening to the whistling birds, feeling like a wide-eyed child with my teeth showing. It was there, in the field I speak of, where I could breathe and believe that summer had made a friend out of me. I forgot about time. I forgot about what I should make for dinner. I forgot about sadness. I was truly happy, to be alone in the golden grassland, to hear my own heartbeat, to feel like there were reasons for me to live and be well. When I am home alone, during the quiet hours, feeling slow or sullen, I dream of these moments, they are the seeds that grow an eternal summer inside of me.

When the sky was dimming and the light of day was soon to leave, I decided to take photographs in the field behind our campground. I floated into the golden grass and felt consumed by merriment. I reached into the raspberry patch with my camera and took a dozen photographs. I watched a flightless bird drink out of a puddle. I listened to the tall grass hissing in the breeze. I felt free, like a child who has tasted sugar for the first time, I wanted more, I wanted this feeling and this field to always be in my view.

As time went on, I started to feel more comfortable than one should feel in an empty field at dusk. I rested my head against the soil and closed my eyelids. I don't know why I do the things I do, being closer to the bugs and closing my eyes seemed natural to me at the time. It was in this moment I heard rustling noises coming from the wild brush. I told myself the sound was being made by a little squirrel, but I gulped anyhow as the drum of my heart fell into my belly. Just then, emerging from the tall grass like a gun slinging bandit, a plump and mystic raccoon appeared. 

Until this moment, I had never seen a raccoon before. I had only heard stories of them being terrible neighbours, the kind that destroy garbage cans and wreak havoc on the family dogs. I looked at him. He looked at me. I regretted being alone, I hated myself for being on the ground, I wanted to leave the suddenly grey grassland, I wanted to be carried home. I was consumed by a fear that can only be described as irrational, it was as if the raccoon really was holding a gun and I was cowardly in my efforts. I started running in the opposite direction of our campground. I hurried through the wild wheat. I prickled my legs in the raspberry patch. I came upon a family of deer and unlike my usual way, I couldn't be bothered to greet them. I was trying to get home but I was running further away. Step by step, it felt lonely and gathering my thoughts seemed harder than gathering unprepared raspberries. I was sore. I was tired. I was overreacting but the running continued.

At last, I came upon an opening in the forest that led me to the campground. Carter was chopping wood in our site when he looked at me and said "Where have you been? Why are you trembling?"  I told him the story, it was all true, except for the part about the raccoon having red eyes and sharp teeth. Just like a story-teller, I embellished and added jewels, because we all know a grinning red-eyed raccoon made my fears and flighted feet seem a little more sensible. After talking like I was running, out of breath and full of nonsense, Carter gently pressed his forehead against my cheek and without muttering a word, I felt brave again. It was him, I was home, I had a story to tell and I was ready for sleep.
Rathtrevor Provincial Park, you were an adventure.

 The Outfit
Skirt – Value Village
  Blouse – Value Village
Gardening Hat Sunnyside Garden Centre 

The Location
Rathtrevor Provincial Park & Campgrounds, Vancouver Island
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Bamberton Forest

 The forest floor was wet by rainfall when we arrived in Bamberton, Provincial Park. It is my belief that few things in life are as sweet as the scent of rain kissing the leaves of a thousand wild pine trees. When the rain finally stopped, we followed a path that lead to the ocean. The sand was wet like the forest and each corner of sky had rainclouds waiting for the right moment, we knew it would begin to pour again so we tried to enjoy the empty beach while we could. Within minutes of walking into the water, a seal popped its head up as if to say welcome, he was so close you could see the sea on his whiskers. I waved at him and watched him disappear into the water below, what a strange world we live in I thought to myself.

The rainclouds found their right moment as droplets of water started kissing the roots of our hair. We played catch in the drizzle until heavier rainclouds came, then we decided it was time to go home and cook us a pot of hot soup. We spent the evening talking to each other while rain splashed against the window of our van. We talked about music, sorrows, and the people in our lives that we love. It felt like happiness, a very cozy happiness.

On a hot July day, we drove into Victoria and found ourselves wandering through a flower garden. Roses of every color appeared like a gardener's dream. I turned towards Carter and asked him if he thought I would ever have a garden like this one, he replied, "With the way you love and care for your flowers, all you need is the land." I closed my eyes and saw a field where the sun was glowing over my flowers, there was no end to the blooms, no fence to tell me where I should stay put, only miles and miles of petals on stems and the smell of cooked soil. It was a hazy daydream, the kind that invites you to stay awhile, but you know you must keep on living as you always have. We enjoyed the garden, running from plant to plant, smelling flower to flower, until it was time for us to buy tickets for the museum and spend the afternoon learning about ourselves and the wild world around us.

My parents used to make a home in Victoria. They lived, loved and created memories together before their names became mom and dad. Their home was where hydrangea flowers burst into bloom, so close to the seawater my mother's hair was curled by it. I know in the soul of my mother, there is a dream of living here again. She was born for the ocean and I will do whatever I can to bring her back to it. Maybe one day, it will be here in Victoria where the garden in my hazy daydream grows.   
The Outfit
  Blouse – Value Village
  Butterfly sandals – Value Village
Gardening Hat Sunnyside Garden Centre 

The Location
Bamberton Provincial Park & Campgrounds, Vancouver Island
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