Slates

The clouds, of late, have been full of themselves. Like giants lolling in and out of bed, they rumble across my viewpoint. The far hills of this river valley hide the horizon, allowing the clouds to slip in behind them like lost coins in a couch.

Beneath them, it is fall, and the trees are trying on new clothes, albeit temporarily. Like getting ready for a fabulous party, they don colours hitherto unseen. 

 

My pup and I walked a path we’ve not explored yet. It runs along the shoreline not far from me in Deep Brook. Once a railway track, it was an easy walk, no hills! There were lots of puddles from the torrential thunderstorm we had yesterday. As we walked, admiring the fall scents, flora and fauna, a Northern Harrier swooped towards me up the path. A canopy of various berry and fruit trees, alder and birch veritably enclosed the path. The rapture’s distinctive flat tail wiggled side to side as she came towards me, then lifted into the air and turned to look back at me. Then it appeared that she winked. 

Today, all the tones are saturated, and the rain and mist, a long time coming from the south, enriches or hides colour in an ongoing exchange of values. Autumn has a transitory effect like that…

The garden is full of ripeness. It’s lush and forthcoming with the fruits of its labour all summer long. Its tireless journey from spring to fall is nearing an apex. 

And

Winter is coming. 

I can smell it in the air.

I prepare as best I can. I still have daffodils to plant, then garlic. They both need to settle in before they can do the real work of providing. A ‘host of golden daffodils’ will provide me with soul food in the spring, and hope during winter. But first I must get on my hands and knees and plant that golden food for the soul.

My late harvesting produce is calling to me. The giant horseradish leaves get trimmed so I may pass by. Four feet high, they speak of the produce below. The root is a winter staple for me. It adds a sort of quick-release heat that I like. I make a batch of fire cider to heal and restore myself. Fermented, it creates a lively intestinal environment. 

 

This time of shift is nudging me into my corner. I feel like a happy squirrel and I gather my nuts and seeds that will sustain me. Unlike the sleepy squirrel, I will be engaged in mindful activities in my studio. Winter can be a productive time for me. Alone and quiet, I can unfold my creative blanket and weave the stories I tell with my art. 

 

I have two shows next summer. Tides Galley in Kentville will display my work for the month of August and I have been invited to be part of a group show at Chase Gallery in Halifax. I will let you know more when the time gets closer. I am working on my visibility in this new home. I moved almost 2 thousand kilometres four years ago and am still finding my niche here. 

 

I spent my childhood here in Nova Scotia, and I like the quiet rural lifestyle I have created here. The isolation is a bit intense at times but I seem to be managing. Wintertime has many activities I love, snowshoeing, or curled up on the couch watching movies, plus there is writing, reading, and making stews and soups …what’s not to love?