Saltspring Island feeds my soul. My home sits on 80 acres, next to a small lake surrounded by pastures and Douglas fir forest. MountMaxwell hangs in the distance, seeming to rise out of the sea.
Just outside my studio window is a tiny heritage orchard of four or five apple trees, and I often sit and watch the birds at the feeders. A 1930s farmhouse, where my granddaughter was born on the floor, lies beyond, and every time I look at it I’m reminded of family.
A sloping meadow leads to a swamp bordered by tall, dead cedars and teeming with birds. Often in the mornings, my wife and I sit in bed and watch the bald eagles, hawks and Steller’s jays from the window. The birds here are a source of inspiration for my work.
Every day after lunch, we hike one of my favourite paths in the world, a grassy old farm road that cuts through the forest. There is a stream that trickles through the woods and pools near this path, and it’s full of little fish. Gigantic swamp lanterns, with their big foliage and bright yellow flowers, line the pond and make beautiful reflections in the water.
I have made many trails through these woods, as I’ve done everywhere I’ve lived, and each has carefully chosen spots where I can stop to enjoy the view. But there are many parts of this forest I’ve never set foot on and maybe will never see.