It isn’t just the cozy quality and small size that I love about cabins; it’s everything intangible a cabin represents, too — the connection to nature, the sense of solitude, and the greater simplicity’s of one’s daily rhythms.
I once spent a couple of nights in Vancouver, before catching a ferry to nearby Salt Spring Island, so doing a live interview with a radio station in Vancouver this week was a fun and unexpected return to the city for me.
Being a pilgrim depends less on our means as it does on our mentality: To take our time with a journey, to not rush our destination, and to create space in each day for discovery, saying only—In Slow We Trust.
San Francisco is teaching me that home can be a person, but on a greater level, home is all of the people in our life, whose combined presence forms an emotional foundation just as significant as any physical one.
From beautiful Vashon Island in the Pacific Northwest to the infinite beaches of the Outer Banks in North Carolina, I tried to pull out my sketchbook as often as possible during this stateside summer.
As I studied the Puget Sound in my scooter’s rear-view mirror, I realized then that the greatest gift that Vashon gave me this summer was the gift of reflection – the gift of looking back.
My head is always filled with a thousand plans for the future, but as I dug my feet into the sand and sketched a place I’ve been calling home for nearly three decades now, I felt my mind grow still.
If our inaugural Summer’s Sketchbook last year was any indication of what’s to come this summer, I couldn’t be more excited to see the sketches that unfold over the new few months.
Right in the middle of perfectly ordinary moments – moments that happen by circumstance or serendipity – life is made extraordinary. And this, I’m slowly learning, is the real magic of Salt Spring.
I know I won’t ever lose my love for sketching faraway places – but for now, I’m grateful to be turning my sketchbook’s attention (and my own) to views a little closer to home.