Wild Bells

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"Ring out wild bells
to the wild sky
the flying cloud, the frosty light."
- Tennyson

It is a new year, and I have been grounding myself in the geography. On a mission to pick up curtains, I drove through all the bays: Buckley Bay, Fanny Bay, Union Bay, Qualicum Bay, into sparkling sunlight, little traffic, and a blue, blue sky. Mounds of oyster shells piled by the shoreline was my clue to stop for fresh oysters from Baynes Sound.

Masts poking through the cloud. 

The return was equally pretty. Soft pillowy mists rolled in over the ocean, where masts of fish boats, looking like crosses, could be seen poking through the cloud. I am learning I need to travel with cash on hand. I missed out on an enterprising fisherman selling fresh scallops out of the back of his truck. Nevermind.

I am not sure why oysters and the holidays pair well to my palate, but it seemed a splendid means to ring in the new.