Leftover from last season, a maple leaf rests on a patch of snow.
The winter has rendered it amber, left its mark in wear and tear. And yet, after a season of rain, snow, wind, and frosty temperatures, it has somehow retained its shape.
It is a symbol of survival.
If you’ve been following my posts, you know that I have been waiting (impatiently) for the snow to melt. I have been itching to go to the beach, but until this week there was so much ice and snow that it wouldn’t have been safe, let alone enjoyable.
The snow is not completely gone, but the beach is finally accessible.
I took a drive to my favourite spot for collecting sea glass, and spent more than two hours wandering the shoreline.
It was bliss.
I was the only person on the beach, with the salt breeze and the rushing water as company. The tide was out and the sea glass was plentiful.
The only difficulty was leaving.
Maybe it takes a child to find an acorn, but I haven’t seen one since I was young.
We used to go to a cottage in Madran, NB, when I was growing up. Behind the cottage was a woodsy trail. I remember the delight in finding acorns and hazelnuts there. (If memory serves me.)
Now, it is my son who opens the door of our house with this tiny acorn, found below the oak tree in our yard.
Of course, I can’t help but photograph it. It seems as though it should have a face, this little cap-wearing nut.
This time of year, the word “layers” makes me think of all the layers of clothing we need for Canadian winters.
Here I am, layered in my fur boots and snow pants, on a walk with my kids and my dogs. The snow is coating my winter wear, adding a layer of white over the black.
These layers keep me warm, but can also be a nuisance – slipping into flip-flops in the summer is so much easier!
In true Canadian fashion, we took the kids out to the hockey game.
As much a social outing as a sports one, it was a truly fun time spent with family and friends. The kids danced and screamed and cheerfully tormented the team mascot. Adults teased and joked. Noisemakers made noise. And much popcorn, hamburgers, fries, and beer were consumed.
I couldn’t tell you any details of the game (except that the home team won!), but I can tell you we all had a lot of fun!
A quiet little brook near my family’s camp doesn’t look like much.
But if you spend a minute noticing the details, seeing the artful lines along its bank and the abstracts in the water, there is a plethora of picture possibilities.
Like this painterly reflection.
You’d think, living in Northern New Brunswick, that I’d been hunting before. It was not something we ever did growing up, though, and as an adult I’ve avoided it because of the “ew” factor.
A few years ago, my husband decided to try it. I, however, had no interest in it whatsoever. I did not want to think about those poor animals, let alone have them for supper.
There was one thing, though, that drew me: The outdoors. And so, yesterday I dressed warm with an outer layer of hunter orange (I’ll admit I grumbled a bit at the ugliness of these items!), climbed on the back of the four-wheeler, and headed into the woods.
The quiet, the fresh air, and the friends will draw me back again.
P.S. Happily for me, at least, no animals were harmed on this outing. This, too, makes it more likely that I will go “hunting” again!
Fall gives so many picture possibilities.
The earth is covered in a carpet of reds and golds; grasses take on muted hues; and branches become stark lines as they lose their leaves.
On the boardwalk at a local nature park, leaves were faded by the sun and crushed by many feet. Moved about by wind and by walkers, they created this exquisite pattern along the trail.
What better subject to represent saturation than the changing leaves in the fall?
Maple leaves in Atlantic Canada, turned crimson at the end of a season.