There are really three important things that emerged between the morning and evening of the days in the maritimes. The first was the nurturing and nourishing cycle of tides that produces both the verdant fields and visual spectacle. The rainbow over Alma is a glimpse at the palette of nature. The cliffs and salt water marshes mark the limits of our intervention. The skeleton of a retired boat underscores the ability of nature to wrestle for a restored equilibrium.
The second disquieting observation was that these cycles happen without our assistance. The ability of lichens and mosses to root on bare rock are an embarrassment to every gardner struggling to root new seedlings. The way wind splatters sea mist over barren rock. The patient winter waiting for a century or two as cracks appear in the rocks.
The gift of making the first two observations is an enlarged awareness that much of what we see, savour and serve places us in a servant role. The steeple is more than a landmark, the boat more than wreck, the empty house a home, the rolling stones a loom for lichens. Entering into this landscape, this vastness, is an act of courage. The images laden with dislocation also speak of survival, renewal and recovery.