The golden grassland
It is hard to believe how fast time travels on by. One minute, I am wandering through a field where wild raspberries grow wide. The next, I am here in my backyard, writing in the garden, watching the August sky melt into the horizon. I still have thousands of photographs from our camping trip on the Island, but I have been too busy smelling the flowers and lamenting about their imminent departure to write blog posts.
There I was, running through the golden grassland, waiting for raspberries to ripen, listening to the whistling birds, feeling like a wide-eyed child with my teeth showing. It was there, in the field I speak of, where I could breathe and believe that summer had made a friend out of me. I forgot about time. I forgot about what I should make for dinner. I forgot about sadness. I was truly happy, to be alone in the golden grassland, to hear my own heartbeat, to feel like there were reasons for me to live and be well. When I am home alone, during the quiet hours, feeling slow or sullen, I dream of these moments, they are the seeds that grow an eternal summer inside of me.
When the sky was dimming and the light of day was soon to leave, I decided to take photographs in the field behind our campground. I floated into the golden grass and felt consumed by merriment. I reached into the raspberry patch with my camera and took a dozen photographs. I watched a flightless bird drink out of a puddle. I listened to the tall grass hissing in the breeze. I felt free, like a child who has tasted sugar for the first time, I wanted more, I wanted this feeling and this field to always be in my view.
When the sky was dimming and the light of day was soon to leave, I decided to take photographs in the field behind our campground. I floated into the golden grass and felt consumed by merriment. I reached into the raspberry patch with my camera and took a dozen photographs. I watched a flightless bird drink out of a puddle. I listened to the tall grass hissing in the breeze. I felt free, like a child who has tasted sugar for the first time, I wanted more, I wanted this feeling and this field to always be in my view.
As time went on, I started to feel more comfortable than one should feel in an empty field at dusk. I rested my head against the soil and closed my eyelids. I don't know why I do the things I do, being closer to the bugs and closing my eyes seemed natural to me at the time. It was in this moment I heard rustling noises coming from the wild brush. I told myself the sound was being made by a little squirrel, but I gulped anyhow as the drum of my heart fell into my belly. Just then, emerging from the tall grass like a gun slinging bandit, a plump and mystic raccoon appeared.
Until this moment, I had never seen a raccoon before. I had only heard stories of them being terrible neighbours, the kind that destroy garbage cans and wreak havoc on the family dogs. I looked at him. He looked at me. I regretted being alone, I hated myself for being on the ground, I wanted to leave the suddenly grey grassland, I wanted to be carried home. I was consumed by a fear that can only be described as irrational, it was as if the raccoon really was holding a gun and I was cowardly in my efforts. I started running in the opposite direction of our campground. I hurried through the wild wheat. I prickled my legs in the raspberry patch. I came upon a family of deer and unlike my usual way, I couldn't be bothered to greet them. I was trying to get home but I was running further away. Step by step, it felt lonely and gathering my thoughts seemed harder than gathering unprepared raspberries. I was sore. I was tired. I was overreacting but the running continued.
At last, I came upon an opening in the forest that led me to the campground. Carter was chopping wood in our site when he looked at me and said "Where have you been? Why are you trembling?" I told him the story, it was all true, except for the part about the raccoon having red eyes and sharp teeth. Just like a story-teller, I embellished and added jewels, because we all know a grinning red-eyed raccoon made my fears and flighted feet seem a little more sensible. After talking like I was running, out of breath and full of nonsense, Carter gently pressed his forehead against my cheek and without muttering a word, I felt brave again. It was him, I was home, I had a story to tell and I was ready for sleep.
Rathtrevor Provincial Park, you were an adventure.
Until this moment, I had never seen a raccoon before. I had only heard stories of them being terrible neighbours, the kind that destroy garbage cans and wreak havoc on the family dogs. I looked at him. He looked at me. I regretted being alone, I hated myself for being on the ground, I wanted to leave the suddenly grey grassland, I wanted to be carried home. I was consumed by a fear that can only be described as irrational, it was as if the raccoon really was holding a gun and I was cowardly in my efforts. I started running in the opposite direction of our campground. I hurried through the wild wheat. I prickled my legs in the raspberry patch. I came upon a family of deer and unlike my usual way, I couldn't be bothered to greet them. I was trying to get home but I was running further away. Step by step, it felt lonely and gathering my thoughts seemed harder than gathering unprepared raspberries. I was sore. I was tired. I was overreacting but the running continued.
At last, I came upon an opening in the forest that led me to the campground. Carter was chopping wood in our site when he looked at me and said "Where have you been? Why are you trembling?" I told him the story, it was all true, except for the part about the raccoon having red eyes and sharp teeth. Just like a story-teller, I embellished and added jewels, because we all know a grinning red-eyed raccoon made my fears and flighted feet seem a little more sensible. After talking like I was running, out of breath and full of nonsense, Carter gently pressed his forehead against my cheek and without muttering a word, I felt brave again. It was him, I was home, I had a story to tell and I was ready for sleep.
Rathtrevor Provincial Park, you were an adventure.
The Outfit Skirt – Value Village Blouse – Value Village Gardening Hat – Sunnyside Garden Centre
The Location Rathtrevor Provincial Park & Campgrounds, Vancouver Island Blog Lovin • Twitter • Facebook • Instagram
The Location Rathtrevor Provincial Park & Campgrounds, Vancouver Island Blog Lovin • Twitter • Facebook • Instagram
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