Years ago, May 1995 to be exact, when living (temporarily) in a tent on a tiny island on the Queen Charlotte’s, I met a fascinating man. He was an archeologist between projects and he and I were both volunteer/wannabee organic farmers on this incredibly beautiful, secluded island farm.
This was back in the days when you put film in a camera, so you couldn’t carelessly snap a dozen shots and hope one turned out okay. He had an interesting habit of taking one photo a day, every day, and only one photo. This way, he spent each of his days looking for something beautiful, something meaningful, something worth remembering.
I remembered him and his one-photo-a-day discipline just yesterday . . . I was thinking of a friend on the West Coast who has met a lovely new man who loves to kayak and, thinking of their kayaking trips to come, this made me recall how this fellow and I would explore the tiny islands around the farm in kayaks borrowed from the farmers. We loved going out after lunch (usually something with brown rice and nettles and other wild spring greens) getting in the little boats and heading off to sea. We would pull up on a rugged, pebbled beach and lie in the afternoon sun, or hide under the boughs of a sheltering cedar in the rain, listening to the crashing waves and looking out over endless Pacific ocean stretching all the way to Japan.
To my delight, I found I still have a couple of photos from my days there, one of the farm-in-progress, which I understand has for many years been a thriving market garden operation:
And one of us setting out on our afternoon kayak expeditions (I’d forgotten about the dog making a ruckus every time we paddled off – he’s on the right howling away):
I want to try out his practice of taking just one photo a day, and see what kind of story that ends up telling. Here’s today’s photo, taken while I was out in my cabin writing letters (seriously, the kind you deposit in a mailbox) this afternoon: