Framed 8" x 12" Limited Edition Giclee Print, 2013 (Age 18)
I joined my family for a couple days at Miners’ Bay Lodge, a quaint vacation property in the Haliburton Highlands of Ontario, where families 3-4 generations deep return yearly. The beach was full for the traditional Friday afternoon regatta. With the sky turning indigo, they were trying to get through the water-balloon-toss to the tug-of-war finale, when a wind whipped up the bay and sent everything flying, in what would later be deemed a mini-tornado. Everyone managed to run for cover. Amidst 200 falling trees miraculously no one was hurt and no cottages or trailers were destroyed. A massive cleanup effort was soon underway, with chainsaws buzzing at 100 foot trees now laying across laneways, one that had narrowly missed our car as we were driving out. After that tree was cleared back, those of us cleaning up debris in front of our cabins heard the loud chirping of a baby bird sitting among the fallen branches, seemingly calling “Mom!” A colourful Cedar Waxwing eventually returned looking very concerned, and rounded up two other babies while quieting their cries with food. The whole family had been dislodged from the tree, with the juveniles not quite ready to fly. By nightfall, the power outage prevented us from seeing them. We left the next morning hoping they had found another place to start rebuilding their home, even as Miners’ Bay Lodge was rebuilding damaged cabins and fallen power lines. It was a reminder to us all of the fragility of life and the temporal nature of our earthly homes.