Rocks have special presence. Each one has a multi-branching story, tied to the vicissitudes of deep time. They speak of sometimes violent change, but more often, to a patience beyond human capability and reckoning; that patience is tied to a multi-layered web of connections to water, to wind and sky, to living beings (with feet and with roots). I find when a rock (or a piece of detritus/garbage) needs to come home with me, it is often because the transformation inherent in its being is more apparent in some way. I think you'd very much like the beaches at Cheverie in Nova Scotia (if you haven't been there already) ... gypsum and anhydrite exposed on the black and cliffs, Fundy mud and sand and many kinds of stone telling stories to one another about erosion and what living with the highest tides means. It's a place to consider that the stone beneath your feet has been folded and squished in layers, like toothpaste. And you can follow those folds out into the bay, and back onto the beach and into the cliff. Time in three dimensions, all around you. You'd find much to gather in the plant realm too, from the banks and the foreshore. Looking forward to hearing more about your rocks, and what happened to the wee gem you found as well.
I look forward to hearing more about the rocks. My favourite rock treasures are from one of the base camps at The Great Wall of China (I would never take from the Wall itself) but in the industrial area behind the bus parking lot, there was a treasure trove of large oval rough pebbles that looked like they could have come from the moon.
Another of my favourites has a little fossil inside it and I found it in Namibia. I remember how delighted I was when I found it - a tiny love letter from God and the universe.
I love how rocks change colour when they are wet or catch sunlight and shadows.
I have a number of very large glass vases which are filled with rocks and pebbles from all around the world, and fragments of found treasures, and I always think I’ll remember each of their stories when I hold them but then I don’t. But they make me happy anyway, because I know that I was happy when I picked them up and carried their magic home with me.
I love the different textures of rocks too.
The other day I had the somewhat macabre but nevertheless appealing thought that if I were buried in a fabulous mauve gown covered in sparkling crystals, then I would become a geode and I quite like that idea.
I love that your sister loves garbage. I often stoop for for a lost friend that needs a home and I get some odd glances from passersby who are horrified that I’m actually touching the clearly discarded thing. Every discarded thing has a story - and it’s my job to tell to it.
I’m so glad the screenings and visit with your sisters went so well.
I love that you went to Victoria to celebrate your film with your family. Oak gall ink is so lovely. The Garry oaks are so very special. Thank you for sharing
You’d be unlikely to find eucalyptus naturalised in BC (well, I haven’t, anyway) but it’s certainly home to Salal (Gaultheria shallon) which is a most rewarding dye plant, but (unlike in weatherbeaten places like Point Reyes :: south across the border) tends to grow quite thickly in the temperate BC climate. You’d probably enjoy playing with the berries , though it’s obviously the wrong season for them. Congratulations on the film, I hear great things of it.
Rocks have special presence. Each one has a multi-branching story, tied to the vicissitudes of deep time. They speak of sometimes violent change, but more often, to a patience beyond human capability and reckoning; that patience is tied to a multi-layered web of connections to water, to wind and sky, to living beings (with feet and with roots). I find when a rock (or a piece of detritus/garbage) needs to come home with me, it is often because the transformation inherent in its being is more apparent in some way. I think you'd very much like the beaches at Cheverie in Nova Scotia (if you haven't been there already) ... gypsum and anhydrite exposed on the black and cliffs, Fundy mud and sand and many kinds of stone telling stories to one another about erosion and what living with the highest tides means. It's a place to consider that the stone beneath your feet has been folded and squished in layers, like toothpaste. And you can follow those folds out into the bay, and back onto the beach and into the cliff. Time in three dimensions, all around you. You'd find much to gather in the plant realm too, from the banks and the foreshore. Looking forward to hearing more about your rocks, and what happened to the wee gem you found as well.
Very beautiful.
I look forward to hearing more about the rocks. My favourite rock treasures are from one of the base camps at The Great Wall of China (I would never take from the Wall itself) but in the industrial area behind the bus parking lot, there was a treasure trove of large oval rough pebbles that looked like they could have come from the moon.
Another of my favourites has a little fossil inside it and I found it in Namibia. I remember how delighted I was when I found it - a tiny love letter from God and the universe.
I love how rocks change colour when they are wet or catch sunlight and shadows.
I have a number of very large glass vases which are filled with rocks and pebbles from all around the world, and fragments of found treasures, and I always think I’ll remember each of their stories when I hold them but then I don’t. But they make me happy anyway, because I know that I was happy when I picked them up and carried their magic home with me.
I love the different textures of rocks too.
The other day I had the somewhat macabre but nevertheless appealing thought that if I were buried in a fabulous mauve gown covered in sparkling crystals, then I would become a geode and I quite like that idea.
I love that your sister loves garbage. I often stoop for for a lost friend that needs a home and I get some odd glances from passersby who are horrified that I’m actually touching the clearly discarded thing. Every discarded thing has a story - and it’s my job to tell to it.
I’m so glad the screenings and visit with your sisters went so well.
I’ve been away and today I’m catching up on reading and wanting to say thank you for your ink card...that came in the mail...Thank you!
This was especially tender.
I love that you went to Victoria to celebrate your film with your family. Oak gall ink is so lovely. The Garry oaks are so very special. Thank you for sharing
You’d be unlikely to find eucalyptus naturalised in BC (well, I haven’t, anyway) but it’s certainly home to Salal (Gaultheria shallon) which is a most rewarding dye plant, but (unlike in weatherbeaten places like Point Reyes :: south across the border) tends to grow quite thickly in the temperate BC climate. You’d probably enjoy playing with the berries , though it’s obviously the wrong season for them. Congratulations on the film, I hear great things of it.