Butchart Gardens at Christmas

Shortly before Christmas, we traveled to Vancouver Island to see Butchart Gardens in winter.  Anyone, when thinking of the gardens, clearly imagines them at their finest in late spring and early summer—awash with blossoms at every step.  But winter also offers a subtle beauty that is well worth the chilly stroll.

Originally known as “Benvenuto” (the Italian word for “welcome”), the grounds exude every facet of the meaning of that word even now.  Christmas decorations are placed throughout the property among the trees, gazebos and arched walkways.  Festive bows, garlands and oversized ornaments adorn the sculptures, doorways and railings.  Each turn brings a new surprise, and a smile, as the sun slips low across the horizon on this winter day to create splashes of light reflecting through greenery framed within marvelous shadows.

Walking through the grounds also leaves one alone periodically along the sidewalks that wind through the gardens.  It is in these moments that a visitor can imagine being the owner of such fine place, out for a stroll in a private garden of their own creation.  It is easy to see why the original owners, Jennie and Robert Butchart, spent from 1909 to 1939 involved in a labor of love that created this exotic place, culled from the remnants of an exhausted limestone quarry.

Our ending was hot chocolate and a gingerbread cookie in front of a stone hearth fireplace.  Nirvana…is achievable.    

Trumpeter Swans at Dawn

Most mornings in recent weeks, Trumpeter Swans greet the dawn and fly from east to west over our home, calling out to one another as they form a V-shaped travel pattern.

New Year's Day was no exception.  Neither exactly from whence they came, nor their final destination, is known to me.  I can only revel in joyful awe at hearing and seeing them pass overhead in their faithful repetition of this daily journey.  I can merely savor their songs.

I rarely have the luck to photograph the swans. Yet on this cold day, I was outside to see Mount Baker proudly posing in their wake.  Starkly visible in all of its white glory against a clear blue sky, the mountain was framed by foothills newly dusted with powdered-sugar-white snow creeping down to their bases.  

These magnificent birds mate for life, raise their young together, live for better than 24 years, have an average wing span of six to eight feet, and can weigh up to 24 pounds.  In 1933, their population in the wild had been reduced to merely 70 birds in the Yellowstone National Park area.  With careful conservation, their numbers have increased to 46,000 in the Continental United States.  Here in Skagit County, they find a diet of their preferred plant foods in both our abundant farm fields and in our extensive fresh water resources.  

There is a beauty in this cold season with its defined, stark shades of white and black.  The stillness at dawn quiets the frenzy of the just-past holiday season.  The warmth of indoors lends itself to rest, renewal and resolutions.

I resolve this year to write more frequently, photograph more clearly, and share more honestly-the joy that surrounds this life.