campfire smoke

I wish I could bottle the scent of a campfire and keep it with me for dreary winter days.

Huckleberry juice.

raindrops on clovers.

Hawaiian palms.

We are back from holiday. What felt like a world away from chilly Vancouver, we landed in the middle of the night to warmth, humidity and a light breeze rustling the palm trees above. Throughout the following days, the sun shone bright. The night was welcomed with wide open windows and the smell of the ocean. Oh, the ocean. Bright, bright blue with light waves. Dinner by them. Walks beside them. Leisurely swims through them. And lining the shore were palm trees; tall, symbolic, beautiful.

fading blossoms.

Growing up, a large cherry tree was perched in my front yard. Springtime meant that the buds would burst open, in fireworks of cotton candy pink. I longed for that day, when coming home meant walking under showers of blossoms.

Now, the trees are being reclaimed by Summer's greenery. Another rite of passage.

hot cross buns.

A long weekend, visiting friends and family. 

a new path.

A walk through the newly greened forest, buds bursting open with life. A new chapter for myself, school has finished. I walk, a new teacher, navigating this path. Alongside, a return to contemplation and photography.

Commercial Drive

For a dear friend, I captured her neighbourhood. For the first time, I didn't hope on the connecting bus, I stopped, I looked, I explored. Such a vibrant neighbourhood, I will be back.