landscape

Shifts

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I will be moving to land soon. I’m starting on a new project that is very land based.
But like anything that is land based it flows back to the rivers, lakes and oceans in some way. Connections.

I was thinking about this as I was walking along the shoreline early this morning, garbage bag in one hand and a delicate bird skull in the other. It is rare that I don’t pick something up, even if it’s just to examine it. After 3 hrs I had a full  bag of garbage and remembered I hadn’t had breakfast yet. Priorities.

It is the first day of spring but it is like we have skipped spring and moved directly into summer. We are entering our 3rd day of +25° c and the next 2 days are to be the same. It feels very strange, in the same way that it was odd when the robins stayed all this past winter. Like they knew what was ahead. Nature adapts so quickly and responds so intuitively.  Instinct.

I’m still on river time, but things are flowing gently and the fog is burning off.






All images © Karen McRae

In A Fog

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In my mind I am here, on the breakwater. The lonesome sound of seagulls overhead, thick fog and the early promise of a warm day. Shades of grey enveloping me like an old friend. A thermos of coffee beside me and ancient boulders beneath. Connected.

All images © Karen McRae

Breaking Open

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Maybe it’s because I spent the majority of my childhood growing up beside a river, but the river runs through me the way it runs through the city. Like a lifeblood. It pulls me to it. I almost feel like apologizing but I can’t. So here we are again…

It is breaking open. There are places where the rapids keep the water open all winter. But I am drawn to the wide open spaces. The distances. The possibilities.
Especially when it is grey. Or snowing. Or raining.

I could show you that the snow has gone. That rapid changes have been taking place on land. But the river responds slowly and, at the moment, I am on river time.

All images © Karen McRae

Winter is Coming Unstitched

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Winter is coming unstitched,
Frayed threads of cold loosening a tentative hold.
The fabric of winter sifts into the earth, flows into the cavities,
The pulse of the city quickens beneath your feet.
A sound of sweet release that catches in your throat, and floods your heart.
Time skips a quick beat, moving forward, a gentle breath on the cheek.
Winter is coming unstitched.





All images © Karen McRae

Current Events

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In the same way the wind carves out the snowdrifts the current is carving away at the belly of the river ice. I wonder how it would look turned upside down. Would it be etched full of channels and rippled ridges or glassy and smooth? I imagine running my hand over the cold surface. Connecting with the texture. Perhaps I need to pick up my paintbrush. Do something more tactile.

This seems to be my visual response to reading the news today. Thinking quietly “out loud”. That feeling of helplessness like a small current of energy vibrating inside that you’re not sure what to do with.
My initial response is to throw some beauty to the wind and hope it lands on someone who needs it…a thin lifeline.

All images © Karen McRae