Oh Canada, I haven’t always loved you as much as you deserve.
In my younger, bolder years I had visions of skipping this giant frozen land for one that satisfied my desire for warm temperatures and sold me the promise of abundance; glad I didn’t make that move now.
Now that I’m softer, older, with less striving in my being, I’ve had the space to consider the images and influence our country has whispered into my heart.
The childhood picnics in farmers’ fields.
The surreal sight of the Northern Lights in a rural sky.
The spring fed lake with beaver dams and loons calling in the night.
This is the landscape that shaped me in more ways than I can know. But certainly in my appreciation for the beauty that informs my aesthetic. The peach sunsets, the golden fields, the big grey lake, the twisty trunks of apple trees.
The limestone bedrock of this country was my foundation for fanciful thought, fledgling art, and the safety for feeling and becoming.
I belong to this place.