August 24, 2008


maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea
e.e. cummings

We pretty much lived out e.e. cummings's poem last week.

Vacation time, Texada Island. OK, no one was chased by a horrible thing blowing bubbles and racing sideways, but everything else really fit. And we did find a dead jelly fish washed up on the shore and clinging to the rocks -- my first sight of one ever, in real life anyway -- that was somewhat horrible.

We rented a small cabin perched among the trees and overlooking the water, and spent the week not doing much more than reading and

watching the changing moods of the ocean. It's amazing how the same part of the sea can change in colour and motion in a matter of hours sometimes, from calm:

to temperamental:

Nor were we alone in our ocean watching:

On the human scale, with only 1,000 residents, the social scene on Texada is pretty low key but we managed to catch the annual highlight: the sandcastle festival.

We also got around to a bit of exploring around the island. I've read that parts of Texada's shoreline are supposed to be almost Mediterranean-like and, though I can't really confirm or deny that, I loved the groves of arbutus trees here and there:

Inspiration pretty much at every turn of the head here. I found images in the rocks and driftwood where ever I looked and managed to do some sketching, hoping to capture enough of what I saw to trigger a future memory to translate into a print one day.

Finally, at the end of the day, some pretty fantastic sunsets:

1 comment:

Eraethil said...

Wowzer! Beautiful vacation spot. Love that second last sunset and especially the wet toes. Thanks for sharing the E.E.Cummings poem too. :)