wordless wednesday...

there are so many deer photos this fall - they are keeping me busy. i thought i better catch you up over here if you haven't seen them on flickr yet. as always, you can click on any shot for more info. happy wednesday!

gale force...

They roll in one after another, storm after storm.  November is wrapped in a howl, a shriek of wind rattling through bare branches, a froth of whitewater pounding the shore. Last night I lay awake, watched the clock blink to 3:33 as the rush of wind swirled around the house and the trees creaked and swayed. Tonight could be much the same. In the middle of the day the wind calmed, bright light tried to poke through the clouds. A little window in between, an exhalation, a lull. We stepped outside for an amble down the road and through the woods. But as the tendrils of evening began to set in, so too did the wind, first tickling at the trees and then blowing through them in great sighs. I rode the ferry back in darkness, feeling the deck shift and shudder underneath us. My truck veered sideways again and again on the rain-slicked highway, pushed by the strong gusts, and even in the black night I could see the white-capped peaks of swell after swell marching toward shore. Now tucked into the house, one small candle burning as I contemplate bed, and a staccato of rain on the windows accompanies the whirling and rushing of the gale outside. I check the current conditions again on the marine forecast, my compulsive habit. Southeast 34 knots, gusting to 42. A mighty wind blows indeed.

By tomorrow morning, there may be another eye. But by afternoon another tempest will be moving in, and Monday will follow the same pattern. The rhythm of the coast. The rhythm of November. Up in the hills this rain is a blizzard, and many an island skier is dreaming of a winter wonderland. Soon. For now my dreams will be woven with the last swirling leaves and the soundtrack of swaying evergreens, the thunk of branches torn free and cast recklessly upon the house. Time to tuck in, curl up under the quilts against the warm man beside me. The storms of winter are here.

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>> These photos have nothing to do with the above contemplation, although storm watching is an increasingly popular activity on the west coast of the island. AK and I made a little journey out last weekend to soak up the wild Pacific before we both get caught up in winter in our valley and on the mountain above, both our jobs (well one of my jobs) revolving around the white stuff piling up in the hills. There was even a taste of winter to come on the drive over, winding up through the pass with rain changing to white flurries beating the windshield and snow piling up under the tires. But it was a break we needed and revelled in, even as short as it was.

Keep warm, lovelies. Winter is coming.

wordless wednesday...

gold morning...

These are the grey days, the gloomy days. November is just that way around here, mostly. So when a weekend morning dawns crisp and clear, it's worth it to crawl from under the cozy covers in the early light and step out into the frosty air. Layers of wool as usual guard me from the chill, but fingers and nose turn rosy. In the twilight of the park deer graze, and a doe stamps her feet at me, but my eyes are drawn to the hot glow through the bare trees. I could have been a few minutes earlier, to get the full effect, but the red ball rising from the horizon blows me away all the same. A fiery orb coming out above the low cloud bank, lighting up the eastern sky with a warm light that defies the frosty nipping my cheeks. Gorgeous.

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I wanted to make this post a little longer, but a mystery recurring allergic reaction that today has flared into a full itchy face rash is keeping me a little distracted. Argh. How does a robust, allergy-free (albeit accident-prone) child who became an adult that avoids harsh chemicals and processed foods, also become someone with a growing list of obscure allergies and sensitivities? My body seems to always be betraying me in one way or another these days. Instead, let me attempt to entertain you with others' loveliness:

>> Have you seen these fantastic ornaments from otchipotchi? The little package I ordered arrived today and they are even prettier in person. Almost puts a girl in the holiday mood...
>> There is a food truck in Tofino that makes amazing chocolate diablo cookies - spiced up with cayenne and ginger. I just discovered the recipe online so now I can make them at home!
>> This embroidered denim jumper makes me want to decorate all of my clothes.

storm...

Last week I was exhausted, having worked much of the previous weekend too. A cold was tickling at the edges and then overtook me, and I couldn't wait for Friday to roll around. I made great claims on social media that the stormy forecast meant I would be happily curled up on the couch for the duration, guilt free. But I guess when it comes down to it, I'm not that kind of girl.

Turns out I'm the kind of girl to head out into the wild just before the storm reaches its full strength. The kind of girl to go stalking tree to tree to sneak up on the deer laying out in the open field, where they bed down on windy days when the trees swoosh and shudder and muffle all other noise, so that no one can sneak up on them, in fact. Out in the open, the newest big buck on the block watched me steadily but still let me creep in close as he tucked his hooves underneath him but stayed bedded down. His second in command lay nearby, and a scattering of does and fawns dotted the grass, while a few more only revealed themselves as my eyes adjusted to the shadows under the nearby bushes. A flick of movement and a large pileated woodpecker works its way up one of the trees edging the field. The wind was a howl around us, fading leaves rattling as with their last gasp they clung to the weather-beaten trees.

Turns out I'm the kind of girl to walk into the gusts of the southeaster along the shore of the bay. Watch the clouds race across the sky and block out the mountain peaks for yet another day. Purposeful waves wash in to the beach even on this 'protected' stretch, and I know there is a snarl of water waiting on the other side of the spit. My spirit races from the energy of it all, even as my head tucks low from the cold wind that find my ears through my thick wool toque. I turned back into the woods, boots crunching through swirling leaves on the path as thick trunks creaked overhead.

Turns out I'm the kind of girl to linger, even has the sky turns abruptly black at two in the afternoon, as the squall becomes a bit more determined and the raindrops a bit closer together. Okay, a lot closer together.  A last detour to spend a few fleeting moments with the hooved dancers again, maybe catch a glimpse of that eight-point buck spotted the day before. But even the deer have moved under cover in this weather, and I stand with a few stragglers nuzzling for acorns under the carpet of leaves. With a last big inhale of the wild air I head home in the rain, finding the couch finally.

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So, it's November then, and the clocks have changed. This morning was greeted with bright sunshine, but I know the workday will end in darkness. Weekday after work walks are suddenly a dying breed around here. While I look toward the next weekend, maybe the increase in inside time will be good on the crafting front. This year feels like a big wash on that front (actually on a lot of fronts...). Since the forced hiatus following my injury at the very start of the year, despite fits and starts I feel like I've never really found my stride again. My inspiration has fled into other activities. How do you find your crafting inspiration? And for that matter, how do you get your fresh air quota when balancing life and work in the dark days of winter?

oh deer me...

Clack, click, clack! I knew that sound, deep in my bones, even if I couldn't quite believe it at first. Clack, clack! Feet quickened on pavement, reaching the edge of the towering hedge to peer through the iron rods of the gate. And there, two bucks across the field, tangled up in a joust for power. Awe, and then my instincts took over and I knelt to change lenses on my camera. When I looked up again, the pair were grazing side by side, best of friends, and I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing. I moved in tentatively, footsteps soft in the leaf-covered grass. In this neighbourhood they feel safe; letting me approach close if I keep calm, move smoothly. These two males had both been congenial before, when I found them individually. But two bucks in rut was a recipe for an antler to the gut, or worse. I kept a big oak between us as I peered through the telephoto lens, my boots buried in the leaves and acorns blanketing the grass. Day was easing into twilight, the grey sky and last remaining leaves providing a perpetual shadow on the park.

Soon enough one two-spike eyed the other, and with a low head pushed his rack against the waiting tines of the other. A slow, lazy sort of dance took place, each testing their skills without pushing it too far. It seemed like practice, either easing into the mating season or prepping for bigger bucks who might come looking for the large group of does in the adjacent field. One buck had a slight edge on the other, antlers just a bit thicker on a head with just a bit more weight - but neither was ready to make any claims to "king of the forest". I barely breathed and watched their tangled tango.

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You may have noticed posting has changed around here, a little. I've been doing this for quite a while (2006!) but more and more I've felt my posts churned out more for quantity than quality. I'm trying to change that, focus a bit more on my writing for what I hope is a better narrative. It used to be all I ever wanted to do was write, before I delved into photography and other hobbies. And I'd like to bring that writing back more. Somedays I feel I could just abandon the whole thing, but for now I'm keeping this little corner of my world. I seem to be filled with a lot of discontent these days, dissatisfied with the life that's unfolding. But when I'm walking through the sodden forest trails, out in the crisp wind at the shore, or stalking deer through a field - I'm never happier. So I hope to share that with you more here in as realistic a way as I can, do my best to bring you out into the wilds with me, and hope you will love it as I do. I'm sure things will keep evolving, but for now this is what I can do. If you have thoughts on what you'd like to see here, shoot me a note at fogandswell [at] gmail [dot] com.

wordless(ish) wednesday...

Wishing you a little magic on this all hallows eve...it's always there if you keep your eyes open.

bear country...

"Jen!" The word came out in a terse gust of air, my breath and my feet caught short as I stopped dead in my tracks. She pulled back too, but took a second to identify the cause of my concern. After that one word burst, my voice failed me and I could only stand frozen. Steps below the trail, belly deep in a lazy section of river, stood a black bear fishing for salmon. He didn't look up at first, and we backed slowly away, our eyes glued to the big beast. But, nature nerds that the two of us are, we didn't get too far away before our cameras came out, trained on the black hulk wading through the current. After a few moments of river recon, the bear abruptly climbed up the bank and started toward us on the trail.

Backing up a little...a couple hours earlier we had been bushwhacking through wet young hemlocks and brush just off the highway some ways north of town, getting soaked and hunting for chanterelles. The thick young evergreens hid even our feet as we navigated the hillside, but when we stopped and tucked below the branches, golden 'shrooms revealed themselves through the mossy duff. We were soaked as we emerged again onto the overgrown logging road, but each of the five of us carried a bag full of forest treasure ready for dinner. I eyed my extra prize - a giant, moss-covered vertebra from an elk, after discovering its skeleton remains on the forest floor - likely discarded some time ago after a hunter took the meat and head. We returned to town satisfied, and after dropping off the other women I asked my friend (she who takes me to see many wild beasts) if she was up for a walk along a favoured salmon river. Gamely, we drove to the trailhead. After surveying the crowd of cars in the parking lot, she deemed it unlikely we'd see any bears today, and we set to walking through the carpet of maple leaves along the water's edge. But that confident assertion proved untrue...

Boots feeling slick in the mud, we backed up again until we rounded a bend in the trail, hidden from view. After a breathless pause, a curious black face poked around the next bend. He didn't seem aggressive, but he showed no fear either, and we tucked back out of view and moved back again to the next bend. We wished out loud that he would return to the river and we might be able to sneak past, feeling our walk was being cut unduly short otherwise. We could have tried to scare him off, but didn't want to disturb him if we didn't have to. Jen had already stopped an off-leash pup in its tracks and directed it and its owner back in the opposite direction, but we were a bit more stubborn. Again the bear appeared around the corner we had just left, watching us, coming along steadily. We retreated one more time. All was quiet but for the gurgles of the river. I saw a black shape appear around the bend, but just as quickly it tucked down into the brush along the river's edge. We waited. Then Jen started forward with a stick in hand, a frail looking thing not more than a couple feet long, less than an inch in diameter. I wasn't sure what she planned to do, exactly, with that sad little weapon, but I quickly followed behind.

But that massive black bear had disappeared, vanished into the dwindling leaves along the river's edge and nowhere to be seen. We continued on up the trail, ears perked to any sound, hearts still pumping with adrenaline. Nothing but the river's rushing journey, although the signs of recent bear activity (*ahem*) were frequent on the path.

On the way back down, we peered out from a little overlook above the river. A rustle in the bushes on the opposite shore alerted us to another beast clambering along. He emerged, unconcerned with us but in tune with every splash of the active salmon swimming upstream. We felt much more relaxed as he ambled along, a deep section of water separating us this time. We spoke in whispers as he tested the water, gnawed on a rotten fish found on the river bed. He continued on up the shore and we continued on our journey back to the truck, wide eyed and invigorated by our close brush with the wild out in the crisp October air.

wordless wednesday...

through the woods, to the beach...

Out of the car and up the stairs. Like a kid out of school and eager to go play, I'm inside just long enough to don my boots and some woolen layers. With camera and gathering bag slung over my shoulder, I grab a handful of chocolate chips and I'm out the door again. The air is crisp with a mostly blue sky overhead, and the smell of wood smoke is in the air. A few blocks through quiet streets and then I'm tucked under the canopy of the trees, heading downhill on dirt into the woods. The last rays of sun light up the fallen leaves like bits of stained glass on the dark path underfoot. The creek gurgles, renewed with all the recent rain. Down across the bridge and I see the huge maple, a canopy of yellow leaves just a few days ago, nearly bare now as a storm or two has come through. A bit farther along and I am out of the woods again, out in the grasses above the bay. The light is warm, golden as it comes across the blades, reflects off the turning leaves of the trees that border this open space. The sky itself is full of drama, grey-blue clouds with a blaze of sun, a hint of rain over closer to town.

I am caught up, entranced. Clambering over old driftwood I shoot photo after photo, trying to capture that light before it slips away. The high pitched whistle of eagles come lilting through the air, and I spot a small crew in the tops of the trees. Out in the bay a paddling of ducks sets off in squawking half-flight, upset by some unseen disturbance, only to settle into their float again a few moments later just a little farther off.

I am busy behind the camera, but all too soon the sun is fading, slipping behind the hills. I know if I wait much longer I will be walking back through the woods in the dark. A few more snaps and I reluctantly pull away, slipping back beneath the trees. I make a quick stop at the deer skeleton, checking the decaying process beneath the leaves, assured that no one else has found it. Then it's back along the winding pathways through the tall firs, eyes and ears alert as always. Over another bridge and steady back up the hill to the street. In minutes I'm climbing up the front stairs again, cheeks red and nose cold, but heart full. Time to make up a big pot of chili, to warm the bones on this cold autumn night.

October, 'tis...

I wish you could walk with me, through the woods. See how the ground has soaked up the new rain, how the moss has turned green again overnight. With the rain comes its companion the wind, and I can hear the swoosh of the southeasterly gust moving through the tree tops. But down here on the trail it's calm, quiet but for the rustle underfoot and the steady croak of little tree frogs.

Birds of all sizes are busy these days, from the wee winter wren in the underbrush with its "chip, CHIP CHIP!" to the plaintive calls of the northern flickers in the forest canopy. Winter's breath is just around the corner, and each day the woods change as they prepare. The forest floor is becoming carpeted with maple leaves, and if you listen quietly you can hear the plink plunk plink as a soggy yellow leaf makes its way through the branches to fall to earth.

I walk quietly, sturdy boots taking soft steps on the dirt paths. My pace is slow but steady, owl eyes darting constantly to try and see everything, deer ears straining for every sound. And then there, on the path, is a deer, although it takes me a moment to match the shape with memory. This deer is twisted, decaying, bones poking out through sodden fur and a macabre grin below empty eye sockets. I contemplate it, saddened but fascinated, and pondering whether I can salvage some of those bones. I will leave it a bit, but there might be some treasure there, a form of reverence for a once majestic creature. There are bits and pieces at every turn, if one is looking - laurel berries to dye with, chicken-of-the-woods mushrooms for eating, fallen leaves to admire. It's all a form of reverence, really.

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I might be absent from here for a bit. I need to do some thinking. I will probably still be posting things over on flickr and anything new for the shop will be posted on facebook too. Hope your Sunday is going well.

wordless wednesday...

salmon wolf...

It's that time of year when the salmon are leaving the ocean to swim upstream in west coast rivers and spawn, finishing their life cycle and starting new ones at the same time. The bears (grizzly and black) come to the river banks to feast on the fish, stuffing themselves before hibernation time. Other animals flock to the salmon as well - eagles and ravens and small scavengers eager to get their share. Yet on the central coast of British Columbia, another large land predator emerges from the towering trees to do a little fishing alongside the bears. The grey wolves of the coast (who are even grizzly bear eaters when they want to be), are also after this rich source of protein, chasing the floundering salmon through the shallows while clumsily attempting to snap their jaws shut on a tasty meal. It's all part of the salmon cycle of the west coast, where these fish nourish all levels of the ecosystem, including the trees themselves.

This piece came together slowly, amidst the bustle of moving, but also because every single stitch on it was done by hand. Most of my pieces are extensively hand stitched, but often at least a part of them are done on the machine. My love of handwork continues to grow though, so I may be doing this more often. This small grey wolf and his sockeye salmon meal (in flushed spawning colours) are stitched up all in linen, one of my favourite materials. He is a friendly sort of wolf, but you will definitely need to win his trust before he might share that tasty fish. If you're interested in trying, they are available here.

It's a canine sort of the place in the shop right now - did you know there is also a red fox and a coyote in there? But if you're waiting for whales (or other ocean creatures), I think I'm just about ready to get back to those too. The shop has been a bit sorely neglected recently, but I hope to get back to it now that we're moved, so there can be lots of pieces available if you are doing your holiday gift shopping. There should also be more natural dye fabric packs by the weekend.

Hope you're having a great week so far!

ETA - a little wolf music for you.

autumn in the alpine...

Popping in for another relatively quick hello. Happy Thanksgiving to all my fellow Canadians! We had a nice dinner here last night with some friends; a mountain of delicious food was devoured. Today is quieter, in certain ways but not in others. I sat on the couch for a bit this morning as the sun filtered in behind me, shadows and flurries of activity catching the corner of my eye. I soon realized that all sorts of birds were flitting about outside, between the bushes and the roof's edge, including at least one Northern flicker who kept perching on the wall of the house just outside the window to tap-tap-tap away. There were other species I didn't recognize, but I look forward to getting to know more new neighbours.

The shots above were taken on Saturday at the local ski hill, where not a flurry was spotted just yet. That's okay - the weather was beautiful, autumn alpine colours under a swathe of rich blue sky. A bit of fall crispness seemed in order, but the sun shone down with surprising heat and the mountain breeze had no bite. I'm looking forward to snow up there, but what a sweet afternoon in that fleeting environment.

Today definitely calls for a bit of outdoor exploring: to walk off last night's dinner, to pick some more blackberries, to enjoy the sunshine. Our months of extended blue skies look they just might be reaching their end later this week. Now if I could just find my battery charger that has been hiding since the move - my camera is basically dead and as I'm sure you could guess that just isn't going to fly for me.

Hope you have a great day whether it's a holiday or just plain old Monday!

grateful...

A few 'sea grizzlies' spotted a few weeks back, playing in the tidal currents between islands. Love these big beasts and their raucous ways, grateful to have the opportunity to see them often. Grateful too, to have all you lovely people stop by to visit me here and enjoy these photos.

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Just popping in for a quick hello and to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving weekend if you're in Canada. This weekend promises to be full of good food, including the meal I myself am cooking here at the new house tomorrow night. The beautiful weather just keeps on coming which keeps smiles on everyone's faces. (Although as a hardened 'wet coaster' I'm starting to feel like I'm drying up, seriously; and the salmon would be happy with a bit more water in the rivers too; and the mushrooms might finally come out to say hello...Anyway...) Whether it's a long weekend or not, and whether the sun is shining or not, I hope you all have a good one. I'll be back either tomorrow or the next day with more to share.

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Until then, enjoy cool things other people are doing:
>> Smitten Kitchen's pumpkin cinnamon rolls might also need to make an appearance on the weekend menu.
>> I do know I am definitely making these kale and goat cheese mashed sweet potatoes.
>> As an ardent Bean Boot lover, I can't wait until these beauties are available again. Perfect for tromping through the trails.
>> I love the lace front of this sweater - I really want to recreate the whole thing in adult size.
>> Did you see that Jenny is now offering Wiksten prints on Spoonflower? Sweet.