from August to Autumn

I had planned to post photos of the post-wedding holiday we spent at a rustic Northern Ontario camp in August immediately upon returning home to newly married life. I had planned to share our adventures, all the goodness that happened in our lives, all the new and wonderful things I had learned and discovered. But then life happened and we became so incredibly busy as summer winded down and autumn slowly crept in.

But I still want to share those photos and the moments and moods they capture. And I think today, the last day of summer, is the perfect day to do so. I suppose in a fitting way, this is my farewell to that favourite season as we welcome a new one: to long summer days and lazy afternoons; to sultry heat and sweaty, sunkissed skin; to casual evenings relaxing on the balcony and drinking beer; to driving down country roads with the windows down; to biking to pick up our fresh CSA baskets; to the month that contained all the love in the world as it saw our family and friends gather to witness Andrew and I share our vows; to the camp I love and know so intimately, having spent my childhood summers there, and that I am lucky enough to return to every year with my dad.

And yet, the week of our vacation up North was not at all characterisitc of summer. It was cold and rainy, with the strongest winds and biggest waves I have ever witnessed at this time of year, making for a particular kind of gloominess. But it was perfect. It was exactly what we needed to relax and recover from all the work and energy we put into making the wedding happen. We wrapped ourselves up in layers of clothing to bear the weather outside and nestled inside by the fire, warming our spirits with endless glasses of wine and long conversations. Andrew passed long hours fishing at the edge of the dock and I curled up reading and slipping in and out of afternoon naps.

All around us, something about the soft, grey light contrasted against the dark greens of the Boreal Forest and golden reds of the pine and cedar was perfectly seemless.

It was as if the seasons were already turning.  

30 - ruggedly beautiful Northern Ontario

i seem to have a habit of disappearing, unannounced, into the Canadian wilderness or to small town Ontario to visit andrew. i've done it again, this time to a Northern Ontario camp where i spent my childhood and we now visit yearly for a week or so-long vacation with my dad (by camp, i mean rustic log cabin in the woods, or what some might more commonly call a cottage. we Northern Ontarians, however, call them camps, not to be confused with youth summer camps or "camping"). my days were filled with fishing, lazing on the dock reading, swimming, taking saunas, stargazing, and relaxing in the fresh air, with no one else around or the buzz of city life to disturb us (although there were plenty, or should i say swarms, of mosquitoes!). the stars at night were simply incredible, and we were lucky enough to catch sight of the Northern Lights one night, which i haven't seen in years! the rugged wilderness up there and the lake's pristine beauty gets me every time. i'm pretty sure it's my favourite place on earth. coming back to the city after such a peaceful and relaxing getaway is always a shock, so please excuse my absence as i have been readjusting to city life and catching up on work.

a few of my favourite shots from the past few years. although this summer was the first time ever that we saw baby loons. so sweet!

29 - introducing andrew...

i write about him so often and i am always away visiting him or escaping with him into the bush (we are living apart right now, and it is the most painful thing imaginable), so i decided it's about time that i properly introduce andrew, my endlessly patient, deeply loving, and wonderfully supportive partner, best friend, and fiancee—in short, the love of my life. 

the photos speak for themselves: andrew is a true outdoorsman with a deep passion for ecology, respect of the environment, and incredible land and survival skills. he is also the most warm-hearted, gentle, tender, sensitive, and understanding man i know. over the past five and a half years, we have grown so much together, unconditionally supporting and believing in each other in every way. i have become who i am because of him. i cannot thank him enough for sharing his life with me and am honoured to have him by my side....

 i love you, forever and always. xo

20 - let it rain...

it's been raining in Montréal, and most parts of eastern Canada, for days. and it's forecasted to continue raining through the weekend (although with sunny breaks). while my body aches for the sun, the rain is calming, replenishing, and surprisingly inspiring.... after finishing my day's work, i spent part of the afternoon making jewellery, drinking tea, and listening to a wonderful folk/bluegrass playlist -- and, of course, the gentle, rhythmic sound of the rain drumming on my skylight windows.

so today, i celebrate the rain.

(rainfall image credit belongs to Malika Pannek of klunkerfunkeln, taken in Montréal in fall, 2010)

 Rainfall, hand-stitched print of original illustration by Leah Duncan.

April Showers by Amy Blackwell (available to purchase in her Etsy shop).

Rainy Day in a Nearby Forest by Anna Emilia
(print of original painting available to purchase here).

rain clouds by Golly Bard (visit her gorgeous Etsy shop).

feather earrings inspired by the popular rhyme, "March winds and April shower bring forth May flowers," from the wonderful Montréal designer, Noémiah. images produced in collaboration with illustrator Paule T.B. 

It’s Raining

It’s raining women’s voices as if they had died even in memory
And it’s raining you as well marvellous encounters of my life O little
drops
Those rearing clouds begin to neigh a whole universe of auricular cities
Listen if it rains while regret and disdain weep to an ancient music
Listen to the bonds fall off which hold you above and below

poem by Guillaume Apollinaire, figured to create the sensation of rain falling, or running downward across a surface.

for an animated, digital version, click here.

17 - weekday getaway: wee trout lake & barron river, ontario

i spent the past week visiting Andrew, and we went camping at a gorgeous spot outside the northern boundaries of Algonquin Park, accessible only by 4x4. it was quiet, relaxing, and perfect in every way. there were absolutely no people around and we had the best two days of sunny, warm weather so far this spring. oh, and the bugs weren't out yet either! 

the above photos look out onto wee trout lake from our campsite in a shelterwood, where people have probably been camping for hundreds of years. even though logging has gone on in the area, with sustainable and responsible forest practices it seems relatively untouched. the eco-system in and around the small lake is so healthy and thriving, it's incredible! the sound of frogs feeding and birds calling at night was almost deafening, but also deeply therapeutic. we sat around the campire for hours, simply listening....

i should also introduce our trusty, fully-restored 1995 pathfinder, the best and most reliable bush vehicle ever,without whom we could not have accessed and enjoyed this wonderful piece of the world. she too enjoyed the sun and fresh air!

our modest tent, which i like to call the bear den! we slept with the fly off, watching the stars as we fell asleep. it's amazing to feel so exposed....

i was one happy camper!

some delightful spots along the barron river, including the most beautiful moss-covered trees:

we went on a walk through the most enchanting moss-covered forest stand i have ever seen. the ground was so soft and inviting i could have stayed forever! but instead, i happily collected a variety of pieces of moss and lichen, both for my natural history collection and art-making:

coral lichen (above)

finally, i want to share photographs of what happens to a tree when you lazily leave rope or cord (from hanging up a tarp or clothesline) tied around it:

because trees grow outwards, the rope basically strangles them as they continue to grow, slowing killing them. here, the rope is so embedded in the tree that it is now impossible to remove. unable to grow freely, this juvenile red maple will likely die within the next ten years. so please, always collect your cords before you break camp!