We first visited The Sunshine Coast when, as an actor, I was cast in the last episode of The Beachcombers. I remember the stunning ferry ride. The vistas of Gibsons harbor and thinking who really lives here? No one important or intelligent would live here, right? The city is where it all happens.
We moved within the year. That was 23 years ago. Once settled in my husband would take me down to the beach to walk over the rocks down to the heart of Roberts Creek. It’s surprising to me now that these early trips made me anxious and antsy; he wanted to meditate and observe; I wanted to get my exercise, to walk fast and to get back. Back to my play writing, back to my booking of gigs, back to my striving. I had a hard time living in the moment. Sometimes when the sun came out, maybe I noticed. The strange thing was, I had ached to live here and when we moved into our just-built home, on our practically empty street, I could hardly believe I’d finally gotten what I wanted: a home in the country. The first night is seared into my memory. The two of us, plus our eight year old son lay on our backs in sleeping bags on the wood floor of the living/dining/kitchen with all our belongings around us, the skylight above us, the stars so bright in the vast sky.
Now in the garden, I still see the weeds that should be pulled, the grass that’s too long, the plant wilting from not enough water. Gord sits in the lawn chair watching the glorious day unfold second by second, sipping coffee. I have these photos of him wherever we’ve been, head back tilted towards the sun, his eyes closed, just enjoying the moment.
But this place has changed me. Nowadays I love hearing not only the frogs at night, but also the urgent cheep-cheeps of the newly hatched baby robins early, early in the morning, even if it urges me to get up when I’m still groggy. Some days I am so gobsmacked by the beauty I just stare for moments on end. Every morning, first thing, I go to the window in our bedroom and open the blinds. And simply, I look out. And I listen. It’s the same view everyday. And yet. Maybe the irises have opened, or the foxglove, or maybe there’s a mallard duck couple poking their beaks into the pond’s water (they always visit together, the brown female, the male with iridescent green). In spring, I love the bright green tips of the evergreen trees and the buds on all the alders and ferns, and how they fill in the bleak winter brown.
The garden seems to literally wake up in that neon shade of yellow/green, as every bush and plant pushes up through the chocolate soil. In earliest spring, crocuses and tulips and daffodils dot the evolving landscape. I mark the weeks of this, my favorite time of year – when the earth is moving towards the sun and the days are progressively longer – I mark these days by what’s in bloom in the garden.
23 years ago, I remember being astonished to see eagles soaring overhead, huge black crows, squirrels, small birds, a coyote. My heart melted when a couple of deer lay down under my fledgling apple tree like dogs lying on their side. I’ve collected huge black, slimy slugs in a bucket after they’d chewed my young seedlings; we had chickens and Muscovy ducks for a while, but lost a lot of them to raccoons. A bear visits often; once he came to the front door as if he’d been invited. My husband has seen a whale, perhaps fifteen feet from him at the edge of the pier. I’ve gone paddling in the waters of Howe Sound when the water was so warm, so velvety we had to leap out of the boat to swim.
I began to lose my desire to get back to the city.
But my true appreciation began a few years ago when I started taking photos of the property because we had decided to open a bed & breakfast. When the photos loaded onto my computer, I could see how beautiful everything had suddenly become. And when our b & b guests came to visit, they seemed overwhelmed by the quiet, the serenity, the glorious world of natural life surrounding us. Suddenly I had to look again. During the 23 years we’ve been here I’ve created a garden from scratch, from brown dirt and debris and nothing but a down slope that ran rivers of mud when the rain arrived. Now the trees are mature, the paths snaking, the shade dappled.
Even so, 23 years later, I’m still striving. Our son moved to the city but hasn’t given us a grandchild yet. My debut novel was published by a US publisher almost a year ago. I’ve still got to get my exercise in every day. Money is always an issue. But I’ve maintained an exquisite happiness savoring each day, each moment and every detail I can possibly notice, because I still have eyes to see, ears to hear, a mind to settle and appreciate. This is where we live. And this is my work and my joy: to be a witness to every moment.
Caitlin Hicks’ novel, A THEORY OF EXPANDED LOVE published on June 12th 2015, by Light Messages Publishing in North Carolina, and launched on the Sunshine Coast at the Sechelt Arts Centre June 13th. (www.caitlinhicks.com) Art House B & B is in its 3rd year of operation (www.arthousesuite.blogspot.ca)
