I've landed in the epicenter of domesticity. Chris and Carole's 13 acres are on the side of a steep mountain overlooking Kootenay Lake, over 100-miles long. The rugged peaks of the Purcell Wilderness rise across the lake. Yet, here is farmville. A half dozen sheep and 3 turkeys roam the hillside, being lovingly fattened for slaughter. A dozen varieties of hens lay fresh eggs daily. The meat birds (fast-growing chickens) are already butchered and froze for the winter.
A bouquet of fresh cut flowers graces my table---pink cosmos, black-eyed daisies and scarlet begonias. The expansive garden produce includes sweet tomatoes, broccoli, eggplant, onions, garlic, and all the salad greens one could want. Yesterday Carole walked up the hill from the garden with a bucket of beautiful heads of savoy cabbage. "Sweeter than the average cabbage," she said. I can't wait to taste. I am overwhelmed by freshness and humbled by their commitment to land, garden and the community that surrounds them.
I am also relieved to be parked. There is much work to do: writing, market photographs, organize notes. It's sweet to awaken into a La Perla that is unpacked and satisfies my aesthetic eye. Color, texture and function. It is the greatest gift to see my 'sister' Carole again. To be in the beam of her and Chris' love.
In quiet moments, however, I miss my slippery solitude. The gaze onto the sea. A whale breaching in the distance; even the low tide, steep descent down the ramp to work on the Thea G. The final journey to Swan Island has not made it into words. The trip of giant brown bears and Ron's sacred tree hidden inland on Admiralty Island. Of 1000's of salmon swishing in shallow waters waiting for a turn of the tide to make their way into their home stream to spawn and die---ejecting from the water like kernels of popcorn over high heat. Of me-who-doesn't-fish catching my first and only halibut as we rounded Pt. Hugh.
My body aches with memory. I dream of being on the boat, awaken and believe I am there. There is more than I realized to unstow.
What an adventure you have had! And thank you for sharing it with all of us via your blog a talent for weaving words so beautifully. When my children were preschool(the oldest turns 50 this year) we went camping on Kootaney Lake and remember the beautiful lake and campground and the friendly people of Kaslo. The campground included an old house on the campground that had been made available for communal use of campers and I will never forget the evening that it was raining and all of the campground residents (who were mostly tent campers) gathered for a get together with singing, dancing, with the help of a couple of campers that had guitars with them. What fun it was. . I have to think that you are fortunate to have a few days there. . Safe travels. . Sandy Feutz
ReplyDeleteThanks for checking in! Your Kaslo story is wonderful. It remains a sweet village, altho moving precariously towards the tourist buck and loosing some charm. Twas ever thus. I'm here for a month,waiting for those brilliant larch to turn. Blessings...
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