The wind rattles the tree
tops as our hiking group follows a steep narrow trail cut through the
dense undergrowth and I glance up thoughtfully, thinking of dead
trees and falling branches. It is a cool, blustery morning snatched
between rainy days. With luck we will not get soaked after all. Soon
we emerge onto a mossy, rocky hilltop and can see the low clouds and
feel the full force of the wind. Ahead of us lies the Burgoyne Valley
capped with a dense blanket of dark grey cloud and farther out beyond
the cloud's hairy edge are the Gulf Islands, Haro Strait and a lone
freighter about to zig-zag around Turn Point and Saturna Island on
its way to Vancouver. All bathed in beautiful silver light.
We stop for lunch in this
windy damp place, hunkering down out of the wind, and I have half an
hour to feel the chill, the drifts of cloudy vapour and savour the
rawness of it all. We are in April but up here a few hundred feet
above the sea, Spring is taking it's sweet old time. And, I love it!
After all those sweet-blossomed promises of peace and love down near
the sea there is a more austere love on offer on this rocky hilltop
and I feel it in the wuthering wind and drifts of dark cloud.
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