the tree of life on my morning path

The other day I went for a morning walk upstream McVicar's Creek. I went with my friend Lilian Mattar Patey. I first bicycled to Shuniah Knox United Church, where Lilian is interim minister, to meet her. We then walked north through the neighbourhood, behind Balsam Pit and along Margaret Street to reach the trail by the creek. Along the path, we saw a bunch of marsh marigolds ringing a swamp. Swamps always catch my eye as 'swamp' or 'bog,' which translate to 'suo' in Finnish, is in the very name of Finland in the Finnish language: Suomi. A few steps later on our path, we saw this amazing tree in someone's backyard. It was shining in the morning light; there was no missing it. The tree reminded me of the comforting and desirous beauty of the Tree of Life. It's sheltering arms, perfect symmetry, expansive canopy, circular space, and dusting of white flower petals caught our eye.  

Continuing on our way, we saw this pile of huge stones. I told Lilian that in Suomenusko, the old Finnish beliefs before Christianity came to Finland, stones as well as trees were seen to have spirits. People conversed with stones and trees for healing and for wisdom, going out into the forest for the medicine of trees and stones. Of course, stones and trees have been symbolically important to many peoples and cultures. I told Lilian, well, I don't need to tell a Palestinian like you of the importance of stones. Today stones are the remnants of the Palestinian houses that Israel has destroyed and demolished. Palestinian youth take up stones as resistance against occupation. Indeed,  a new documentary called The Stones Cry Out uses the metaphor, reality, and spiritual strength of stones to tell the story of the ongoing Nakba of Palestine, focusing on its Christian population and heritage.

Lilian's family story is part of the larger dispossession of Christians from Palestine. In the short 6 m. video above you can hear Lilian tell some of the story of her family's displacement from Palestine. She was born in Haifa, but because of the Zionist militia takeover in 1948 her family was forced to flee and found refuge in Al Quds / Jerusalem; however, they eventually met more tragedy. By telling her family's story, Rev. Mattar Patey hopes that people will broaden their understanding of the Palestinian heritage of what is now called  Israel. In 1948, Jerusalem was designated an international administration zone yet, as Lilian's story is an example, since 1967 Israel has taken large parts of it by force and today by demolition and the continuing displacement of Palestinians from East Jerusalem. Since burying her father, Lilian has not been back to her home.

the rock below my feet

The great Canadian Shield at Cascades Conservation area. While out on a hike last Friday to the Cascades, no matter how many times I visit this place, I find the beauty breathtaking.

Cascades, the Current River

I saw this heart jump out of the rocks at the Cascades today, where I went for a hike with my husband this afternoon.

The amazing beauty that is at our doorstep in the great northwest ...

never ceases to amaze me.

colours and

textures abound

drawing the eye

I told you about the Cascades before; last time I showed you spring.

By some miracle, or simply determination to survive, the seed of a tiny wildflower found a home in a tiny crack of these immense, hard rocks.

Trees, too, plant themselves among the stones; askew is not a concern to their roots.


We walked upstream to this point. The nature in the photos above is found behind the rocks in the center of this photo, where the water drops off.

a stone wall

and its reflection

The Bluffs, part 3

After walking along the south ridge of the Bluffs, you end up looking north, over the Hydro corridor. Because it is a clearing for hydro lines, all the trees have been clearcut. So the north side of the Bluffs looks unlike the south side, which I showed you earlier.

A trail follows along the Hydro corridor to Centennial Park. You can see a family with a baby stroller walking on the path. There are a few paths that lead down from the Bluffs; one path descends on a slow arching curve down the back of the Bluffs, but another goes almost straight down causing you to grab onto slim poplars so you don't slide down. The paths all lead to this trail going to Centennial Park. From there, you can get on the trails that will take you to the Cascades, which I have already told you about.

However, my husband and I had gone for a quick hike before Thanksgiving dinner at my mom's, so we didn't have time to hike to Centennial Park or beyond, instead

we took one of the paths

leading to

the bottom of The Bluffs

These cliffs are used for rock climbing and ice-climbing in the winter.

My husband scampered up the rock face somehow, don't ask me how. I told him, "I'll meet you up at the top"....

Mt. McKay i.e. The Place where Thunder Birds Nest Part V

Every time I go to this area of FWFN, interesting rocks present themselves to me. This one was on the trail going up the mountain. It looks like something, or some being, has been pressed into the stone.

This rock was also on the path. It had the most unusual blue and yellow patches. These hadn't been added to the rock by hand. The blue appears like Maya blue, however, that is southern hemisphere and this is northern, Anishnawbe blue.

These rocks make stone steps up to the mountain. The top of the steps were creamy smooth; the sides were bumpy and speckled with lichen.

This is the very top of the mountain; the landing pad of the Thunder Beings. The bedrock of the mesa, weathered by ancient winds; scratched by the talons of the giant birds.

Highway 61 ~ return

The rocks on the shoreline keep getting bigger and bigger until it is impossible to climb over them and you can't progress any further. Overhead, however, there is a path that once you manage to hoist yourself up, leads to

a small but startling sanctuary of trees. Many of the trees are covered in old man's beard. Moss abounds and the ground is spongy from years of fallen and decayed matter. The trees crowd the top of the rock's flat head; from the sky it would look like a greenish gray cap. The air inside the forest is breathtaking; each breath you take is cleansing, clarifying, invigorating. The sheer mass of lichens bear witness to the purity of the air in this unspoilt niche.
"Look around the big cities of the world. What do you see? Not very many lichens, that’s for sure. Very few lichens can survive near factories, next to highways, and other sources of pollution."

On the other side of the rock cap, the rock suddenly levels out and reaches out to the water.

There are steps on the eastern edge of the smooth rock

and where rock meets water, a merganser pariskunta [couple] head out for one last swim.

On our way back down the highway, we pass numerous 'watch for deer' signs. Highway 61 passes right through deer territory and you never want to be on this highway at night. Ever. Even during the day, deer are constantly crossing the highway. Many, many deer are killed by cars on this highway.

So we make sure to get back on the Canadian side

before dark.

Highway 61 ~ Grand Marais

Highway 61 ~ Grand Portage

Highway 61 is the road out of Thunder Bay that takes you to the States. Last week my son and I drove down to the US. These skinny poplars line the Canadian side of the border. The poplars have replaced the massive forests of pine that used to fill this area in the past. The pines were all clear cut and logged. The odd old pine waves from atop a cliff; its inaccessibility having saved it from the saw of 'development'.

After crossing the border into Minnesota, we stopped at this outstanding lookout over Lake Superior.

After driving a bit more we then stopped at Grand Portage, Kitchi Onigaming in Ojibwe. We did not go into the casino but rather walked along the beach towards the reconstructed fort of the North West Company.

We saw this skeleton-like driftwood that had floated onto the shore.

We also walked through the reconstructed Chippewa [Ojibwe] camp. Grand Portage is Ojibwe land. The per capita income on the reserve is $10,808. Grand Portage was once the means of bypassing the formidable high falls on Pigeon River for those traveling westward by canoe. Pigeon River became the border that divides the US and Canada. Pigeon River is named after Omimizibi, an Algonquin term that refers to large numbers of passenger pigeons. Prior to the mid 1700s massive clouds of pigeons darkened the sky, traveling up the river from the shore of Lake Superior. In those days a flock of passenger pigeons could number 2 billion birds. James Audubon once watched one flock pass overhead for 3 days. Passenger pigeons, of course, are long gone; in the 1800s hunters killed 50,000 birds a day, preparing their extinction.

After leaving Grand Portage, the next place we stopped was this beach of red stones and clear water that was right off the highway.

The stones became larger as the bay curved

This is the point of land that closes in the bay

with this lichen-capped rock sitting at the end.

Up close the rock is an imposing hard diabase shelf

yet permeable, for despite its fortitude it has been hollowed out by the water.

Walking back to the car, we noticed that the red stones were actually many colours.