It was Sunday morning and there were about 19 of us sitting in a circle within a small cabin near the shores of Chute Lake. It was the final day of what I hope will be an annual event, the Writing Wild retreat. It had been a glorious weekend – the nights were cold, but the cabins were warm. The mornings were crisp and it seemed the days were designed specifically to show off the autumn colours. Everywhere you looked, there was something new to see, from the buildings, many of which had stood for more than 100 years, to the ancient, rusting farm equipment found scattered all over the property. There were dogs and horses, squirrels and birds, lake and forest.
We’d been having a great time, learning new things, spending time in silent communion with our pages and words. I’d sneaked off a few time to take pictures, and that was the cause of my distraction. All that visual stimulation! I was a bit overwhelmed. I didn’t know how to narrow it down.
I was supposed to have my eyes closed, following along with the guided meditation. But for some reason, I opened my eyes, just in time to see a shaft of sunlight pierce the clouds and come in the cabin window. It shone through the petals of the bright orange flower on the top of Norma’s pen, illuminating it from behind and I knew. Sunlight and shadows.
Fungi in the forest
Wildflowers blossoming on the shores of the lake
Sap in the shadows
More wildflowers on the shores of the lake
Lichen hanging from the branches
Sunbeam in the forest