Among the benefits of early rising is the gorgeous sunrises we get here: always different—
On the particular morning of this photo, the patterns of light and colour in the cloud captivated me and inspired this work of 'photo art'.
This pattern of wrinkled humps of seaweed on the rising tide is relatively unusual. It takes several different weather and tide conditions conspiring together to create it.
It goes something like this: First, a southeast wind must blow at low enough tide to accumulate a build up of copious amounts of sea lettuce on the beach. Then, the further receding tide must distribute that sea lettuce over a large patch of the shallow sloping sand, a few inches thick. Then, day must be hot enough to dry the surface of the sea lettuce while the tide has ebbed. The third requirement is that the wind drop, allowing a calm windless period while the tide rises. The result is that the thick layer of sea lettuce is moved slowly from beneath, while the baked-dry surface of the sea lettuce layer is more resistant to movement, and makes for these extraordinary folds.
To me it looks something like colourful elephant skin. Or perhaps a satellite photo of mountain ridges. Or the flowing of some strange green river flowing from the distant rocks... What do you think??
Sometimes when we go down to the sandy beach, it’s absolutely smooth, pristeen, untouched. Other times we can see there have been others there before us: crabs, dogs, people, and occasionally the deer whose hooves leave their characteristically deep impressions as they bound across the sand. But today it was a racoon that had been to the beach.
The angled sunlight highlighted the perfection of the clawed toes and foot pads: evidence of the quiet creature’s leisurely stroll across the sand. He’s out of sight now, but he’s left us this sign of his visitation.
I wonder who else’s tracks we’ll see today?
As I've watched the daffodils bud and come to blossom this spring I've noticed what they do just before they open their colourful blossoms and display their full glory: they bow their heads, as in humility.
Maybe because this week is Holy Week, ( the week in the Christian year between Palm Sunday and Good Friday, leading to the great feast of Easter) this detail of their downward movement has struck me. For this is what we see — the glory of God mostly clearly, fully displayed in the humility of Jesus who, "... though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross. (see Philippians 2:5ff).
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For more reflections on Holy Week, you can check out my 'Lection Section' Blog here.
In the course of the day's demands, which today included the simple task of having a brake light replaced on my car, we found ourselves walking in a neighbourhood we hadn't explored before. The repair folk needed us to leave the car with them for a while, so off we set to explore the neighbourhood around the car dealership. What an unexpected treat. The streets were quiet— almost deserted— and spring gardens were burgeoning with blossoms: japonica, forsythia, hyacinths, daffodils, pansies, flowering trees in full bloom including magnolias and cherries. So much colour. So much design and care and beauty.
The clematis that was climbing tenaciously up the supports of a carport, adorning an otherwise unassuming piece of architecture, was just one of the many strikingly beautiful treats on our walk.
And now my brake light is replaced! (bonus!)
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Photo Notes
Since I wanted to draw attention to the clematis itself, I've adjusted this iPhone photo using Photoshop for layers and masks, and Topaz Impression to add the desaturated / textured/ drawing effect on the perimeter of the photo.
The road rises and curves away out of sight. Who knows what's around the next corner... Meanwhile, right where we stand we're surrounded by beauty—a beauty that's both softened and strangely enhanced by the early spring mists. I stop to catch my breath, and admire the wonder of where I am before plugging on up the hill and to whatever awaits around the bend.
The pure clear face of this camelia — its serene perfection with a backdrop of relative dark disorder was similarly captivating for me— its creamy petals, in regular geometric pattern signalling a gracious presence even amidst the chaos. Beholding this gentle beauty almost grants the kind of serenity it embodies. And just as fleetingly, for the camelia blooms last only a very brief time before fading and falling.
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Photo Notes
This is an iPhone photo, as it was one of those moments on a dog-walk when a sight cries out to be captured. I’ve added some layers of texture to the background to emphasize the clarity of the blossom itself.
Finlay Lake Conservation Area - Click on image for a larger view
We'd wanted to walk in to Finlay Lake for a while, so with the sun shining brilliantly, it seemed a good day to set out for this quiet spot.
The path leading through the forest was bursting with spring shoots, and the birds were singing in the canopy above us, and the winter wrens and towhees rustling in the ferns and salal.
When the path opened to the lake there were a few Buffleheads on the far side, but otherwise all was still. Occasionally a raven's call echoed through the trees, and an eagle flew past. Otherwise, simply stillness— but a stillness that is burgeoning with life.
Clearly I have an affinity to the deep mystery of rainforest beauty. The moody grey weather invited another walk along the lower trails of Bluff Park. Its impossible for me to walk these paths without thinking of stories and fairy tales, and of Ents and Hobbits— I have yet to see one of those, but doesn't this scene make you wonder if maybe... if we waited very quietly ... ?
This afternoon for a change of pace, I'll go and hunt for some early spring buds, but for now, its deep forest that I want to share.
The light on the moss carpeting the forest, and the dominance of the blue-green lichens on the cedar trunks makes for an 'other worldly' scene, though of course it is just exactly 'this world' as it is, in the depths of the rain forest, in the wet west coast winter.