Jade mist dances with tendrils smokey and torn, Clinging to grit-strewn, sandstone curves; Hips and hearts, carved by a pewter tide. On land, the sanguine mists entwine gnarly limbs, heavy with moss and lichen, As ancient mycological sages weave their intricate wisdom, like weft, into the forest floor.
Living on Galiano, I'm pretty much surrounded by forest. It's mostly second and third growth forest, with very few of the Ancient Ones left. I'm situated near The Bluffs Park, which is a beautiful place overlooking Active Pass, which separates Galiano and Mayne Islands. The Bluffs Park sits on several kilometers of craggy sandstone cliffs, [...]