By Maryanna Gabriel
Yesterday I woke up feeling antsy. I think I was bushed. I began to pack for the ferry to nearby Victoria. I needed some things and fruit from hot warm places that was not green, hard, and bruised, was on my list. With spring taking its time and the pandemic dragging on, I knew I needed to feed my soul.
Today the snow is softly falling and soon I will have to shovel a path out to my studio. I had no idea yesterday that the weather would change. Sometimes, I wonder what force orchestrates an intuition that bears such fruit. There was a fated sense to the encounter and our deep conversation. I feel I have made a new friend. Today, I can be bushed without feeling bushed. I am off now to chop wood.