Everything is grey.
There is water out there somewhere, but no reflection from the sun. No visible horizon, just a solid, foggy expanse. Like some sort of Homeric underworld. A granite curtain, empty and undefined.
It’s bloody cold.
We are at the beach in late November, on yet another hunt for local foragables. It’s chilly enough to warrant the traditional full coat and toque combo that all Canadians (even those of us smart enough to have migrated West) have kicking about in the back of the closet. I can see my breath hissing in the ashen stillness. But, I don’t feel any chill, in fact I’m excited! Down the beach I can see it, vibrant against the grey stones… It’s green, like the Emerald city.
We’re off to see the wizard! Read More