I'm going to start this post off with an ancient, 14th century Irish poem from Deidre Remembers a Glen. I'll explain why I'm sharing this in a moment, but first, I want to present this without any sort of pretense.
THE GLEN
Fruitful glen of fish-filled pools
beautiful your rounded hills of wheat;
remembering you causes me great distress,
glen of bees and the horned wild ox.
Glen filled with cuckoo, thrush and blackbird,
joyous forest to every fox,
glen of garlic, green with cress,
flowering clover curly-crested.
The clear voice of the red-backed deer
under the oak tree, high on the summit
gentle hinds and they so timid
lying hidden in your well-wooded glade.
Glen of the scarlet berried rowan
fruit praised by every flock of birds,
for the badgers a sleepy seclusion
quiet in their burrows with their young.
Glen of the silent blue-eyed hawk
glen with rich bounty from every tree
glen sheltered by peaks on every side
glen of the blackberry, wild plum and apple.
Glen of the sleek brown flat-nosed otter
leaping lightly, freely fishing,
many are the graceful white-winged swans,
salmon spawning in the stony streams.
Glen of the tangled branching yew
glen of mists and gentle cows
glen of the clear brilliant sun
glen of the graceful women, perfect as pearls.
In a lot of ways, this poem puts into words the feelings I get when I think of British Columbia, and in particular, the Okanagan Valley, a place I was fortunate enough to call home for four short years. My memories of that place are very dream-like, in the sense that they seem almost too good to be true. I moved away from Kelowna in 2000 and have wanted to go back ever since. This aspect of myself is very difficult to understand for some people, and this post is partly aimed at fostering an understanding. The other purpose of this post is to help me sort out my thoughts and feelings about British Columbia, and to explore why it had such an impact on me.
I was born in Prince George, B.C., a small town in the northern interior whose primary industries were forestry and pulp milling. I lived there until I was five, so my memories of that place are fairly dim. We moved to Winnipeg, Manitoba in the spring of 1985, and it was the summer vacations my family took to B.C. every year afterwards that really allowed me to learn about the province of my birth. We frequently visited relatives in Prince George and in Armstrong, a small farming community in the northern Okanagan valley. Some of my happiest childhood memories are from those trips: the hot summer days, the frequent, and harmless, quarrels with my brothers in the car during the interminable drive across the Canadian prairies, and the visits with relatives. My family followed this pattern religiously right up until 1996, when my parents decided we'd move to Kelowna.
It was during one of our regular sojourns to the west that we'd stopped in Kelowna, and in particular, the future site of a suburban development named Kettle Valley. We had driven up a long, winding road that took us quite a ways up onto the hill that borders the eastern edge of Lake Okanagan. From there I could see what felt like the entire valley. We stopped and piled out of the car where the road ended. Beyond was a huge area full of spruce and fir trees, growing out of sandy, dry soil. A bright July sun beat down on us from a clear, blue sky. The air had an arid, dusty quality to it scented by the legion of evergreens around us. Way off in the distance, we could spot tiny white specks out on the lake; boats of all varieties moving about on the dark blue water. On occasion the faint noise of their motors would drift up the hill towards us. Eventually, one of us kids piped up, asking why we came all the way up here. That's when our parents told us that this was going to be a housing development, and that they wanted to build here. The implications of that didn't really sink in at the time. It just seemed too big of an event to process.
We came home from the trip, and there wasn't any talk of moving for months. It wasn't until January of 1996 that our family sat down to discuss moving to Kelowna. I was elated, while my brothers were less certain, especially the youngest. The decision to go was made that day, and that marked the beginning of our preparations for the big move. The next few months passed in a blur, and before I realized it, it was summer and we were moving to Kelowna. The first couple of months were rough, as they always are, when you have to dig in your roots in a new area and work at building a community again. The beauty of the valley, and the very mild weather, certainly helped overcome that difficulty. I cannot remember ever loving the outdoors as much as I did when I lived there, and I was very much an indoors type of person. My interests involved TVs, video games and books! For the first time, I started paying attention to what lay outside the front door.
My love affair with the Okanagan went beyond the visual and the weather, however. For the first time in a long while, I felt at peace, and I attribute
that to two things: being given a chance at a fresh start, and
connecting with the natural world in a way I never had before.
Moving halfway across a country as large as Canada really does afford one the opportunity to start fresh, and this was something I needed badly at that point in my life. I was socially awkward all throughout school, and moving with the same crowd of kids from school to school meant that reputations stuck, even if one started to outgrow them. I was at that point where I could transition to being just a regular kid, rather than "the weird one." This, combined with making friends who genuinely shared my interests, made for an amazing two years of high school. I didn't dread going to class in the morning. I didn't have anxiety attacks that would stop me cold while trying to keep my breakfast down. As a matter of fact, I actually looked forward to going to class. That isn't to say that I was popular by any means, but I was "normal," and that is something every child craves.
My social life only improved over time. After high school I attended college in the valley, with many of the same people I graduated with. It was a great time in my life, and I fully acknowledge that this made my experience in Kelowna all the sweeter of a memory. I would go so far as to say that perhaps that makes my memories of the Okanagan seem better than they really are. This is one of the reasons why I want to go back and try living there again. It's the test against the hypothesis that people are what made my time in"K-town" so memorable. That's one aspect of my love for B.C.
The second half of my affection for British Columbia is its natural beauty. This is a far more ephemeral and elusive topic, because it doesn't have an obvious cause and effect. The best way I can describe its effects on me is to say that I feel a deep, abiding peace and love for the province. Places like the Rockies evoke feelings of awe and wonder at the mighty titans that loom over the valleys where people dare to live. The Okanagan inspires a calm and deep connection to the sun-dappled hills, vast forests and orchards and the welcoming lake. The west coast and Vancouver Island have a lushness and vibrancy of life that can't be ignored. I think I can speak more about this connection now because of my spiritual studies, and I would say that my soul is attuned to the energy of that land; it gives me strength, confidence and a surety that I am in the right place. There's never been a time where I doubted that connection. I just lacked the words to define it, as much as something as powerful as that can be confined to the limits of language.
To be at peace, I need to explore that half of me that wonders if it was the community that made the Okanagan so incredible. Moving out there and living there should answer that question quite effectively. Perhaps it won't be as amazing as I remember it, yet perhaps it may be even better; I am a very different person from who I was 13 years ago. I have much greater appreciation for the natural world, and I am far more community oriented now. In any case, it'll be one hell of an adventure. Speaking of which, I am still committed to my WWOOFING adventure this September. The process of writing this blog post has reinforced that decision.
