Across a narrow channel from our shoreline sits Newcastle Island. We pass by its rocky shores while we're paddling .. sometimes, the racoons or deer on the island pause in their routines to watch us float past, sometimes we point out Bald or Golden Eagles or even the swan that made her home there this year.
In July, Bruce and I took a the pickle boat ferry over to the island and spent a couple of hours tramping along the trails. You can see that it's a beautiful walk. The thing that made it especially noteworthy was not the insects droning in the fully blossomed heat of the summer day, the fleeting flash of a sail as we wandered a coastal trail or the heart stopping boom of an elder tree falling in the forest near where we were walking, although they all contributed to a wonderful memory.
No .. the thing that made this so pronounced was that as we were walking along a trail in the middle of the island much like the one above, we came into a small clearing and Bruce and I were both hit with the same smell and we both commented in unison "that smells like home" and we stopped in our tracks to enjoy it. The coastal air always carries the ocean tang ... every breath is a reminder that but a few feet away is one of the largest bodies of water on the planet. However, at that moment, there was only meadow, sunlight pouring down in beams and spruce sweating sap to remind us of Alberta. It's funny that we still think of it as home .. even after five years away. I'm betting it will always be that way to some degree.
No comments:
Post a Comment