The Covid-19 pandemic locked us all away for months. We are slowly finding ways to reconnect with each other again. While being tucked away, going in on ourselves, learning what it was like to feel enclosed, wrapped up with our loved ones, our thoughts, our music, our writings and the constant, giving nature of Nova Scotia, we found ourselves deepening, reflecting on the essence of what it is to live, love, and the meaning of life. Questions. Patience, Hope. When will this end, this foreboding feeling of uncertainty? We surfaced…like a re-birth, looking at the world with clearer eyes. Respecting our beautiful planet with emotional, awestruck adoration. Can we survive? Can we collaborate, clearly, consciously with nature and hold her delicately, with trust on both sides, breathing new life within her and ourselves?Paula Rockwell – November 21, 2021
The changing of seasons is upon us and with it memories of winter beach walks, winter beach grass – brownish, golden waiting for the warmth of the sunlight to replenish its green. When I took this photo, my blundstones giving perspective, I thought it looked like modern art or the realism of local artist and friend, Alan Bateman. It is a study on ice shards and the influence of the tide’s natural brushstrokes, creating polka dot edges, smooth clear cuts and ice droplets. I love the transparency of the shear, thin ice sheets as the grass lays “under glass”, potentially protected from outside interference. Blue tinges present themselves as if Vermeer had painted it himself. “What colour are the clouds?” he asks Griet, in the movie Girl with the Pearl Earring. She discovers the colours are more than just white. Ice shards reflect many hues, like the ocean, it depends on the lighting. Can you see anything else “under glass”? Shadows, faces, artifacts. Imagination prevails. A moment in time that day, a photo caught on modern canvas, only to be melted and washed away by the sea.
Mesmerized… the beautiful evening sky presented an image of his famous fresco. Instead of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, it was Mother Nature’s endless, heavenly ceiling. Instead of the use of his red chalk technique, nature uses her finer, more pastel-like brush strokes, intricately smudging the edges of her subject with blush pink, purple and white. Nature imitating art! I love looking beyond the obvious.
Look closely…a robin’s vacated nest, so intricately constructed, strong enough to endure a cold, blustery winter. I hope she will return this spring to raise her little ones. They will feast on the goodness in the soil and air, helping to develop their lungs to support their “cheerily cheeriup” songs. The nest, a safe haven while she warms her eggs and waits…waits until her quiet home becomes a busy, noisy nursery. An ocean view I hope she remembers.
A walk on the beach meant I left my wine glass behind. When I returned, I found it leaning like the tower of Pisa, slightly tilted and asking for a few more drops of Cab Sav! There are treasures to behold everyday and a glass of “beach” wine helps unwind a weary soul.