Iona Island

It happens once a year -- to all of us. Some love it, others loathe it. Many, like me, are indifferent, though I wish it were otherwise, because the day is not so much about me but a remembrance of what my mother went through. A day that began exactly nine months earlier, hopefully ecstatically, because we all want our moms to be happy.

The picture up top was taken at Iona Island yesterday morning as I was setting out on a solo walk, finding space and minimal distraction in the landscape, in celebration of what I believe to be an interesting life, but also of what lies ahead, or what's left, the mountains being home to the Valkyries, who will take me to Valhalla.

The tide was so far out I decided to follow it, only to find myself standing in the middle of Burred Inlet. The walk back took me down the centre of the island, which was flanked by blackberries. I must have eaten a couple pints of them.

It had been a while since my last visit to Iona. The City of Richmond keeps ridding it of its old structures and historic junk. There is also a plan to create three passages through the breakwater that will allow salmon to spawn in the creeks to the east, at Wreck Beach. I like the sounds of that. But these rocks below, are these rocks parted from the breakwater? Tell me they are not a sign of the rocky road ahead.