Walking along this hidden, dark pebble beach, accessible only by the Skerwink Trail, clear cold water, pure fresh air from the ocean, and a perfect mist that makes everything soft and peaceful. The fog horn from the Trinity Lighthouse is on like a mantra.
This camaïeu of greys provided the ideal blank canvas for diving deep and unleashing a vibrant explosion of colours. The feathers I found on the beach were far from pristine; the waves and salty air had beaten them. They were so ruffled and charming.
My great-grandmother was a Native American. It’s still in my genes, still running in my veins. I believe that’s why I feel so appealing when I am lost in the wilderness. For the Natives, feathers symbolize trust, honour, strength, wisdom, power, and freedom.
