“… i spill into the kind of silence only Khalil Gibran would understand.” – Sanobar Khan, Turquoise Silence
The leaves on the trees are murmuring among themselves underneath the bright sunlight – we’ve just come back from a tree-lined trail walk down to Lake Ontario (in Ajax, Ontario), a lake so blue and large, it makes me feel like I’m looking at the cobalt hued Pacific ocean back in Vancouver. We had a canine companion with us, the family’s white labradoodle, Beckham and with the colourful fall leaves crunching underfoot, it felt like home.
The feeling of home is my solace and so is the act of writing down my thoughts, it feels comforting to reflect on the last few days as I write down these words – we had a wonderful visit up north, the mini road trip there and back reminding me of our road trips down to San Francisco. In fact, some of the vistas that filled my eyes were echoes of the open countryside that we loved seeing in Oregon and California. There were too many barns to count, often sitting near beautiful homes wearing various shades of brown, red and grey! Some of the homes had large bear and horse figurines on their properties letting us know that we were definitely in the country. Another special country touch was observing wild turkeys congregating beside the highway, their black/brown plumage hard to miss – we later learned that they were re-introduced back into the wild and they sure seem to be flourishing!
Up north found us in Eagle Lake near Haliburton staying with Terry’s family for a night or two in a cozy wooden A-Frame home surrounded by beautiful forest – it was a chance for us to catch up and also meet Terry’s grand-niece for the first time. Our days were spent eating delicious food and sitting on the deck breathing in the cool fall air surrounded by the unique call of the raven. On our last day, we explored the town of Haliburton, made our way up to the local look-out and took some pictures – our goal was to capture the haunting colours of the Haliburton Highlands, we were lucky, the changing foliage was not at the 100% it is now but there was enough colour to remind us of the potential beauty to come. I will never forget our last evening there – sitting around the outdoor fire pit as night fell, the cold sparkle of stars reigning over us, drinking dark red wine while waiting for the chicken and beef burgers to cook. A souvenir of nature, the smell of wood smoke weaved through my hair and settled on my jacket, taking me back to those moments until that primal outdoor scent faded away…
This post is dedicated to a dear neighbour, Susan Johnston (May 03, 1943 – October 02, 2016) – her parting words to all who loved her, ” Don’t be sad for me, I’ve lived a good life.”