I'm doing some canning

Summer, I am ready to bottle you up and preserve you for a long dark winter day when I crave the warmth of the sun. But that's not likely. I crave raindrops more than sun rays. However, it's never a bad idea to be prepared.

All things leave a mark on us... even seasons. Particularly seasons. The things we fall hopelessly  nostalgic over... the sweet fragrance of a strawberry patch, our grandmother's lilac tree, the first quiet snowfall of the year... so many of them are seasonal. And we are full of whimsy and longing when one season starts to fade and another peeks around the corner with promises of familiar creature comforts.

At least, I am. Full of longing. Especially at the end of summer. I'm a girl who needs to be watered on a regular basis. And this year it has been way too dry, and I am feeling a little too parched.

The summers of my past have left an imprint on my soul that brings about a mild anxiety that I can't shake. I think I have conditioned myself to feel anxious in the warmer months, which leaves me longing for fall way too early. I shouldn't wish my life away.

 I do recognize and appreciate the good things that summer brings. A friend of mine just took me through her expansive organic garden and filled my arms with pea pods, fresh basil and ripe delicious tomatoes. I have spent long glorious hours wandering beaches and wild spaces with the sun on my shoulders and sand between my toes. I've eaten more peaches this year than I can count. And strawberries, and raspberries and watermelon.. I could eat watermelon for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I've picnicked with friends, went away on a little road trip and I've stolen entire afternoons to read great novels. I have so much freedom in the summer. That is truly wonderful.

But I am still ready to throw in the beach towel and do a rain dance. A few drops fell today. That is encouraging.

Home

I get these dreams sometimes. The same thing happens every time. I am forced to move out of the place I am living, into an unfamiliar one that is usually not a very nice place. And in my dream, I am always trying to talk myself into liking this new change, even though my surroundings are dreadful. And every time, I wake up with the most tremendous sense of relief that it was just a dream, I could almost kiss the walls.

To say that I am a homebody would be a vast understatement. I spent most of my years growing up in a place where I never felt I belonged. When I finally let go of that place (never looked back, really) and moved to the island, I finally found my place. And I vowed to myself, never to leave.

Well. I spent the last week or so in the complicated world of real estate. I discovered a perfect little house. Off the island. And all week, despite the fact that that house was calling my name for a number of reasons, I was ignoring the distress calls inside my heart. I have let that little house go as well. I just can't bear the thought of leaving.

A few weeks ago, I was in Tofino. My favourite place on this lovely little planet we call home. When I'm not there, I long to be there. And each time I walk the beaches, little stories unfold before me. Sometimes mysterious ones...

For instance... who planted this tree on the beach? And why? Was it alive when it was planted? It is supported by a tall piece of driftwood, and it has definitely seen better days, but in the fog it looked spectacular and truly mysterious.

And this car. How did it get here? The tires are still inflated, so my guess is that it might have travelled all the way from Japan and has washed in with the tides. We are starting to see a lot of debris from the tsunami on our beaches, so that would be the most reasonable explanation, right? But maybe it has a different story? I'll never know.

And this was just pure whimsy. It's not everyday you see a pole weaved from head to toe in coloured bits of fabric. It was like a maypole of sorts. Beautiful and mysterious. I envision a great celebration. Or perhaps an offering to the sea gods...

Or sea fairies?

All I know is that the sea and its creatures were offering up a lot of love this day. How lucky they are to be able to make their homes right on the beach. These tiny sand huts were popping up all over the beach... no bigger than a thimble. Adorable.

And this house? This one would be mine, tucked snuggly amongst the trees on its very own island at high tide. What a lovely place to dream away the summers, and to watch the storms in the winters. And if you think it might be lonely, there are two other houses hidden on this tiny island.

The future is never certain, but my heart is telling me to stay. And just as though I have awakened from yet another dream, my relief is abundant enough that I could kiss the sand.