Peace River FCA

March 2021

Me.

A weed seed.

Transplanted to the BC Peace Country, 

from another continent, from urban to rural. 

Now, rooted deeply these past 30 years and some                                                          

in this plot of land that I vow to steward gently

so near the fertile waters of Charlie Lake

Seated in my living room, hands envelope a mug of steaming garden tea 

eyes roam, searching through three panes of Argon filled glass

in all four directions,

for the evidence of a creature, weather, or 

perhaps the tale of an newly unfurling leaf, a bloom

Or 

listening for the footfall of a friend, a much beloved neighbour perhaps

Or  I  procrastinate, never   quite   able to    envision  the    finished  piece 

of Art,   

a brewing creation, a refashioning, a way of seeing,

wanting to birth, but not quite  

undisciplined, lacking courage

it is always a journey with an ephemeral destination, fluid

recently becoming enamoured by the Artistry of painting with wool in all dimensions

or squeezing a signature from botanicals, prints that will long, outlive their floral Northern Season debut.  

Each Media so sensual

Now striving to meld the two into Artistic Wooly Botanicals, somehow, someway, sometime.

Or

the crunch of gravel marking the arrival of local Artists, mentors, who colour my Studio

with congenial chatter, grave debate, gentle critiquing, encouragement, raucous laughter 

or,   silence

all of us enveloped in a concentrated act of creating, expressing

alone but together: Flying Colours Artists Association

Or 

Stepping out my door. 

Breathing the nuanced flavour of each moment.

Each season

a reassuring rhythm of routines, so comforting.

Outside my door is distraction and attraction 

I: a temporary interloper, stepping into an unruly garden, 

Into a Boreal Forest trail, a meadow and the stream bed 

I guard them, to honour native spirits

I stand still, forgetting to breath 

Or 

inhaling deeply, the forested air,

air too often reeking of exhaust, tainted smoke, carelessness

I stand still 

to listen, to peer, to ponder, to rest.

Here, I live.  Here, I consider.  Here, I create, recreate.

Miep

Revised  March 2021