When the clouds are hanging low, the trails in Bluffs Park take on a different and more mysterious look. The mossy beauty is awesome. This particular trail (Moss Trail) winds through a spectacular portion of open forest, and is a visual treat on a foggy day. Or any day!
While the clouds were hanging low, and the incessant drizzle tempted us to stay inside by the fire, the awareness there was a new trail to explore drew us out. We put on our best wet weather gear and headed for the spot we'd heard of, and were rewarded with a magnificent adventure, getting yet another perspective on our lovely island.
The trail curved downwards through large cedars and firs, ferns and salal, and then a patch of wetland, before emerging on the sloping sandstone of the north east coast of Galiano. Though the trail isn't long it took us some time, as we kept stopping to admire the curves and shapes and the rich beauty around us,
This sight stopped me in my tracks today: pink honeysuckle climbing and blooming all the way up an anchor cable of a power pole. Sunlit against the shadows and fir trees, with fragments of blue sky visible through the spaces— the beauty and colour invited standing at the roadside, looking, and capturing a photo (or three).
So often honeysuckle clings to the trunk of a tree, choking its life from it, but this one's found a place to thrive and bloom, doing no harm at all. And it has transformed the harsh hard lines of the anchor cable into a striking beauty.
I have loved walking in the forest since I was small. It is, for me, a place of mystery, of wonder— and a veritable feast of beauty.
Here in this image, the warm sun pierces the canopy— its light falling on the tender fresh green of a young hemlock.
What is it about this that evokes such pleasure? even a simple joy... I wonder.
Yesterday, walking in Galiano's Heritage Forest, my eye was drawn to the shapes of the trees— the shapes that will soon be hidden by the profusion of leaves.
Mixed with the evergreens are are are several willow trees of varying kinds, along the main path. They’ve been there, as their size indicates, for years and years, but it wasn’t til yesterday that the light caught them in a certain way, and I ’noticed’ them. They are, to me, absolutely beautiful— the stature of the tree as a whole, and the detail of the slender curves…
I will likely post several more photos of these and other trees in the days ahead, either here or on my Curious Spectacles Facebook page which you can find here.
Maybe because we've waited so long for spring this year, or maybe its just that these wonders are more precious with each passing year, but surely the delicate beauty of the huckleberry buds opening has never been quite so breathtakingly beautiful to me.
It wasn't what I was looking for. I was after a photo of a Northern Flicker. But— as I carefully crept along beneath the trees to get close enough for a photo, a flash of a different orange caught my eye.
Nestled in the hollow core of a very old fir stump was a beautiful fan of orange and yellow mushroom. Turns out it is known as a ‘Conifer Chicken of the Woods’ (Laetiporus conifericola). I’ve seen it before growing on trunks of decaying fir trees, sometimes quite spectacularly, but the appeal of this sighting was accented by its cozy home low down, inside the empty round of the stump.
If I’d not been pursuing the Flicker, I may well have missed this beauty! I didn’t get the Flicker. He was long gone by the time I’d finished photographing the ‘Chicken of the Woods’.
(Note: The inside of the stump was in shadow in the morning, so I returned later in the day when the sun was higher to get the photo above.)
When the sun came out after a morning of heavy rain, the light in the forest was dramatic. Intense and beautiful— light and shadow; texture and pattern; colours and hues.
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.
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.
