Today felt like a gift: all warmth and movement and meaning.
We began the morning under a clear blue sky, harvesting blackberry bark (after a quick watering of our new Three Sisters Garden!). There’s something quietly powerful about this act: the gentle twisting, the peel and tug, the respect for the plant and its offerings. Beside us, Susan laid out a beautiful array of fibres she’s been collecting — bullrushes, corn husks, grasses. We spent time weaving together, the air rich with the scent of sun-warmed bark and the soft rustle of hands at work. As we wove, it felt like we were threading not just fibres, but memory and conversation — stitching ourselves into something shared.
At lunch, I took a solo walk down to Spanish Banks. It was low tide. The mountains were sharp against the sky and the ocean shimmered. It felt grounding to just sit — to be held by the quiet, salty vastness for a while.
Later, we gathered at the Museum of Anthropology. The exhibits always move me, but today I was paying special attention to the wood and plants used in the carvings and weavings, and after spending a morning as a beginner weaver, I was in awe of the work and deciI left the museum with a new book in hand: Held by the Land by Leigh Joseph. It’s described as “a guide to Indigenous plants for wellness,” but just flipping through it, I can tell it’s more than that — it’s a love letter to land-based knowledge, to cultural continuity, and to healing.
Looking at the photos from today, I’m reminded how vibrant and full of life this work is. Even something as simple as weaving together becomes a practice in listening, in patience, and in noticing. I am so grateful for this sunny day and everything it held.