Nature's Rituals

The forest trail begins its meandering
journey as an old country cart-track
and gradually narrows, reflecting
the forest's reclamation, yet the trail
persists narrow and inviting, a bower
of branches from neighbouring hemlocks
reaching to clasp the sky, an intimacy
of shared space, a glory of verdant
place interspersed by random growth
of beech, oak, maple and birch, all
now in the throes of fall preparedness
for winter's arrival, dressed in the
ephemeral splendour of red and gold
foliage lazily detaching, to float airily
on each waft of wind, spiralling to the
forest floor, the forest canopy slowly
denuding, the green masts of the conifers
an exultation of perseverance, welcoming
bluejays, chickadees and nuthatches
even as geese depart, their formation
turned south in their migratory ritual.

 Photo Essay

The perfect companion is
one that knows how to 
recognize moods sensitive to
and empathetic with the
other's nuanced feelings,
emotions and values. That
companion views what you see
sympathetically, capable of
capturing a memory of a 
landscape, a moment in time,
a series of woodland discoveries
on a leisurely forest trail ramble,
sharing an authentic
aesthetic, gifting one with a
memorable prod to visual
harmony in an album of
prized and fondly held
photographs that only a
clever camera is capable of.

 

The Searing Wind

The wind hurtles scorchingly
through the heat-withered
landscape, no relief in its movement
to be had. The sun, unrestrained
by clouds, lording it over a vast
sky of relentless blue baking
all that it illuminates below.
Foliage turns ashen green in
wilt under the full glare of the
afternoon, turning prematurely
wizened, defoliating and drifting
to the forest floor, a distress of
the baking atmosphere. Goldfinches
flit silently through conifers
stoically enduring what they cannot
influence as the small mammals
of the woodland haven hide
conserving energy in instinctive
survival reaction to nature's
random existential challenges.

Marriott Basin, British Columbia

If you love nature, and enjoy going out into wilderness areas, it helps if you live in Vancouver. Leaving Vancouver and driving the Sea-to-Sky highway to Lilooet and the Coastal Mountains of British Columbia is a breeze. There, adventure awaits. You plan to drive on from Lilooet to the Marriott Basin. You've been there before, and you've liked it. So a return is in order.




You take care, because you're embarking on a backpacking week-end, to consider what you plan to take along. As little as you can get away with. You'll want a lightweight tent, enough to accommodate one person to sleep comfortably. A sleeping bag, food, a small stove, fuel, pot, change of clothing; socks and underwear at the very least.




Whatever else 'extra' you decide to take along, a small camping towel, soap, toothbrush, mug, platter, and candle-lamp, you know you will have to carry it in on your back. The more ambitious your hike into the mountains, the more prudent you are in selecting what to take with. A small set of binoculars? An efficient, small water-filter. Up to you; how's your back for carrying a load for a prolonged period of time, over challenging terrain?




Once at your base camp, you'll set up your tent. Good thing you thought to take along a small blue tarp and ropes; they'll come in handy. The view over the lake is spectacular, and just look at that sky; looks like a storm approaching. Up, up and away, there's an eagle coasting on the wind. And what's that peering around that rock? Oh, a pica.



You'll prepare a rudimentary but satisfying meal for your first night out. A good cup of hot soup or tea finishes that off nicely. Let's hear it for freeze-dried food. Night draws a dark curtain over the landscape pretty quickly in the mountains. The atmosphere is fresh and cool and there's a brisk wind rippling the lake. It laps gently while you sleep, a good, exhausted sleep.



And in the morning you look around again, wait for the sun to come up; at least for dawn to begin to filter light through the mountains. You look out over your lake and the silence and the mountains beyond embrace you. After breakfast you begin a climb, planning a day-hike further along, secure in the certainty that no one will disturb your camp site. It will be there, intact, on your return, waiting for you.



You want to get a good close look at that glacier you remember, wonder if it'll have that same rose-coloured bloom on it. And that lake nestled high above, that blue-green glacial lake that looks ready to spill over the cleft in the mountain onto the landscape below. Oh right, it does do that; it falls over the rock in a prolonged, long and resounding spill, to fill another lake down below.



Photographs courtesy of J.S. Rosenfeld

South Thormanby Island, B.C.

Getting away from it all. From Vancouver with kayak and tent and enough fuel and food for several days, just paddle about and enjoy nature's wilderness solitude and beauty.



For company, you can commune with river otters, in the bay where you're camped, curious about your presence, who will perform their rambunctious antics finally oblivious to your presence, another of nature's creatures who turn up on occasion.



The ocean lapping at the shore will lull you to sleep. The wide open sky above, the heavens as dark as they get without city lights cast above, so the theatre of the firmament as prehistoric man saw it presents for your viewing pleasure.



No ancient hominid saw the regular cycle of a space station circling Earth, in a technological mimic of nature's clockwork symmetry in the vault of heaven, nor the passage of communications satellites, however.



Photos courtesy of J.S. Rosenfeld

 

Discriminating Gourmands

They are avaricious little beggars,
an onlooker would be justified
in assuming our little puppies
are on a cruel starvation diet
so wedded are they to 
dawn-to-dusk grazing when
they aren't galumphing
through the house in hot and
frenzied pursuit of one another,
each determined to have possession
of a singular toy of which two
are available, or ramping up
their wrestling/boxing routines
giving hectic chase when the mood
strikes. They position themselves
doggedly, beseechingly at the
kitchen counter as we prepare
fruits or vegetables, anxious to
cadge what they may. Jillie
will accept bits of anything, 
from melon to berries, peas, banana,
oranges, broccoli, but Jackie
more delicately discriminating
though fond of almost everything
feels kiwis insult his taste buds
a step too far in abandoning
food-digestible standards, not 
a patch on, say violets so readily
dug up in the garden  and spruce
tips so accommodatingly available.

Skagit River, British Columbia

May 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photographs courtesy J.S. Rosenfeld

 

Winter Birds

The morning sun reaches its
golden shafts of light on a
brace of doves resting on our
porch dozing comfortably 
above the seeds scattered
for our avian neighbours who
don't mind sharing with
squirrels also busy foraging
on these cold and windy
days fit for neither man nor
unsheltered beast. Above, at
the feeder pole-high, cardinals,
goldfinches and redpolls
share only between themselves
and so windily, frigidly 
inclement is it that tiny
puffs of air expelled between
cracking sunflower seeds
rise like the spirit within
soon chilled to invisibility.

 

Lonesome Dove

They arrive in a flutter of
grey, in a whirl of sound
distinctly their own, the
Mourning Doves who settle
among the seeds of our winter
offering to our winged neighbours.
In devoted pairs they arrive to
settle and gently take their 
place among the cardinals, 
juncos, goldfinches and
chickadees, disturbing none,
and themselves undisturbed by
the presence of busily foraging
squirrels. One dove among the
pairs, alone and apart, sits,
head tucked into fluffed wing
feathers, as though drowsing;
separate, while finding comfort
on chill white winter days,
in the presence of others.
That dove, in its single
existence, remote and pensively
unpaired, stirs compassion in
the observer's heart, a lone and
lonely journey through life.

The Hellions

In repose, exhausted after
exhausting our none-to-spare
energy and well-meant patience
they are instantly transformed
from hellish imps, that dynamic
duo, our sibling puppies,
to innocently sweet newcomers
to life's short canine journey
accompanying our own. Their
precocious curiosity has no
discernible bounds, much less
do hopeful distractions detain
them from the serious business
of kleptomaniac destruction. 
Yet it was we who eagerly 
brought them into our inner
sanctum having weighed the
benefits of a neat and tidy life
sans concerns for other creatures'
well-being, finally coming down
decisively on the side of ditching
it all and harnessing ourselves
yet again to the pleasures and
pains of their comedic and
constant companionship.

 

Urban Wildlife

They visit us often, those
creatures unbidden but welcome
unaware that humans are
jealously attached to the homes
and properties we call our own,
private possessions whose 
purpose and ownership is
deemed such that none may
encroach upon. Exceptions
granted to creatures free of
our quaint view of the world.
While in our arrogance of
domination we impudently
make free of the domain of
the wild organisms of the Earth.

Existence

The timeless, perplexing and
sublimely complex creation
that hums and thrums throughout
the Universe holds endless
fascination for those times
when our minds contemplate
the unknowable vastness and
diversity that surrounds us, in
everlasting space, dark and
teeming with celestial bodies
whose chemistry the brilliance
of a scientific mind deciphers,
beyond the comfort of we 
whose focus remains close at
hand, sighting about us the
wonder of ephemera, butterflies
and morning mist, spring peepers
and flowering vines, the fragrance
of favoured dishes, the flood of
memory bringing us to tears.
Our amazement that we were
born and out of fortune's sideways
glance we met to recognize our
future of shared thoughts, love
and tenderness, the care taken
in the duality of two becoming
as one, living our allotted time
given to a microscopic presence
within the great gyrating
wheel of the Universe.

The Wildlife Enthusiast And the Gardener

The Wildlife Enthusiast
And the Gardener

They're blighted little ingrates
little doubt about that.
Ingratiating themselves so 
we have compassion for their
well-being, feeling it incumbent
upon ourselves to aid our
local wildlife to survive
harsh winter by doling out
the seeds and nuts no longer
available to their foraging habit.
So now, garden fall chores
completed with the final
planting of spring-flowering
bulbs, signs present they've
all been dug up, nibbled to death,
despite having been generously
sprinkled with hot pepper flakes,
that effort and expectation all
for naught. Scold those impish
little scoundrels? Do they care?

Narrow Horizons

No need to travel, to look
beyond the comfort of the
familiar, the urge to discover
unknown things about the
greater world suppressed by
grim disinterest of those fully
infused with the unspoken belief
that beyond intimate borders
of everyday life there are no
revelations of experience
whose beckoning call might
be tempting enough to halt
resistance to exploring the 
unknown. Rural parochialism
Permeates every facet of the
residents' lives, simple facts
of the world beyond of no
conceivable use, extraneous
to their quiet satisfaction in life
that refuses to cross invisible
borders until, inevitably, the
headstones in the cemetery
over countless generations,
hold numbers of residents far
exceeding the living who cling
to their narrow, fulfilling
lives replete with material
poverty, supported by a
deliberate dearth of curiosity
and knowledge, clearly
redundant in communities
committed to existence that
knows nothing whatever of
beyond the great beyond.

The Rain Garden