Saltspring Island

Hello, my friends. How is summer treating you so far? I know that it is luring me away from the computer and enticing me to go outside and play.

My friend and I spent part of the weekend on Saltspring Island, which is just a short ferry trip from Victoria. It is an eclectic little island brimming with artisans and creatives of all types, and every Saturday in the summer, many of them gather for an outdoor market the central village. I drooled over beautiful pottery and jewelry, tried the most delicious pesto kale chips ever (never thought I would like kale, but I am determined to make my own now), and happily wandered about in the sunshine, soaking up the local sights and music.

When we'd had enough of the crowded spaces, we found ourselves snug inside the Tree House Cafe devouring a delicious and nutritious lunch underneath the branches of a giant tree. The entire cafe was built within this tree. What an amazing place...and the food was fantastic.

We eventually moved out of town and drove around the island in search of interesting things to photograph. As we traveled down pretty tree-lined curvy roads, we found other cosy cafes,  fields of sheep and lamas, ocean piers and funky houses. Almost every one had a sign out front...fresh eggs, natural honey, pottery, fruits and veggies, you name it. Anything you needed, you could find on this little island of abundance.

I found myself imagining what it would be like to live there. I think I could be very happy on an island like that...at least in the summer months. A weekend cottage would be oh, so perfect.
I look forward to returning for the fall fair in September, when I can dream a little more.

From Your Daughter...

He has a soft spot in his heart for crows.

He has a quiet, subtle sense of humour that cracks me up.

His idea of cooking is throwing every left-over from the fridge into the frying pan... all at once... almost always mixed with scrambled eggs.
But he can make a masterpiece of a pizza.

He taught me to ride my first big kid bike, how to get up on one waterski, took me for my first driving lesson (it didn't go well, but at least the car came back to the driveway fully intact), taught me all about the colour wheel, composition and perspective, and tried to teach me to draw, yet I still can't draw a stick man to save my life. Thanks for trying, Dad.

He is the most patient person I know.

When I was little, he used to set up a small easel next to his so I could paint with him.

He's a chronic whistler. He gets that from his dad. He listens to music as he paints, forever whistling along. The best part is when he fills in melody gaps in songs with his own little improvisations. It's really quite endearing.

He has an impressive knowledge of music and knows good music when he hears it...always open to what is new to his ears. What we listened to when I was young has had a strong influence on what I listen to now.

He gets giddy and child-like whenever he gets to purchase a new techy kind of gadget. Then he will spend hours meticulously learning every detail from the instruction manual.

There is no one on this planet I feel safer with to drive me from point A to point B in the snow.

I love you so much, Dad. Happy Father's Day!
xoxoxoxo

I'm Feeling the Flurry

June is blur of activity. One more week of craziness and then I can slowly settle into the quiet dreamy glow of summer. It's piano recital time. Not my favourite time. I feel like a nervous parent to each of my students as they prepare for their performances on Saturday.

These flowers remind me of all the smiley happy faces of family and friends that will make up our audience...faces peeping between other faces, eager to see their child walk to the piano, place their hands on the keys and share with everyone what they've learned this year.

Ooohh, I can't wait until it's over. It doesn't seem to get any easier each year, and I am learning to accept that. I am anxious because I am invested in these kids...and that's a good thing. It's well worth the butterflies.

One Beautiful Thing ~ twenty.eight

~playing with one of Kim Klassen's lovely textures~

The month of May is coming to a close, and so is my little project. I hope it has brought you a bit of happiness, a little sprinkling of quiet beauty throughout your spring days. 

Yellow is the colour of friendship. I offer this flower to you... to each of you who have been by my side throughout this month long journey. I am so grateful for the friends I have made in the blogging world over the last few years...there is nothing more beautiful than connection, whether it is in person or in spirit. So really, I couldn't do a month of beautiful things without you being a part of it. A big part of it, as this would be a very lonely little blog if it wasn't for you. Thank you for your love and kindness. You are all so so beautiful.

xoxo

One Beautiful Thing ~ twenty.seven

I don't take landscapes very often. I think it is because my eye sees the same places all the time, so I have a hard time finding something extraordinary enough within the scene that entices me to photograph it. But when I come across a scene like this one, it's hard not to find the beauty. I couldn't help thinking about my dad today as I captured this old boat.

My dad is an artist. He looks for things like this to paint. When I was younger, every time we took a road trip, we would often find ourselves parked on the side of the road while my dad got out to photograph something interesting that he could work with in a future painting. He was, and still is, drawn to old collapsing barns, battered old roofless shacks and abandoned boats. Sometimes I would get out of the car to watch him... and I could never understand why it took him so long to take the picture. He would stand there for what seemed like eons, looking through the lens before I would finally hear the shutter click. And I must say, to this day, I have never heard a better sounding shutter than what came from his old film camera. I wish my camera sounded like that. I think I used to stand next to him more to hear that sound than to see what he was photographing.

But now I know better. Now I know how long it can take sometimes to find the right composition. To find just the right angle. To make sure my settings are right before I take the picture. While most of the time I am snuggling in, getting close and personal with my subject, today I learned that sometimes it's best to step back a little and take in the whole scene. And I am learning to be more patient.

I had no idea back then, watching my dad, that I was taking my very first photography lesson, and that he would be my first teacher.