My Heart Cries
The last refuge
I’m overtaken by two emotions when I’m in the midst of the great north.
The first is the awe that all of us experience, the greatness of this land that we are so blessed to live on. In Canada there is no city so large that a quick escape north cannot be fulfilled in less than one hours drive. Blessed we are when we can head off in almost any direction, east, west and north and we are free. Free of noise, free of traffic, in fact, even the frequency of neighbors in many places is farther than you can throw a stone or even a short walk. If you drive two hours things improve even more but if you venture beyond three hours drive, you can be truly remotely alone, if you so chose.
The second emotion that gnaws at my very soul is the forfeiting of that precious land in favor of housing developments. The shorelines being bought up by cottagers with no spaces left for general access to the water, inch by inch, property by property is disappearing into private hands
I think of the local politicians whose job it is to oversee the planning and distribution of the lands, motivated by the ever increasingly insatiable demand for tax revenue brought by expansive property development with no regard whatsoever for the preservation of the land and the access that should be partitioned and reserved for the general public.
My heart cries for my children and the next generation who will not enjoy what I enjoy. My heart cries for those who will not experience the great fresh breathtaking beauty of the lakes without the interruption of docks and motorboats. It’s not the owners faults, they only purchase what is made available. The responsibility lies with those whose job it is to plan and allocate.
My heart cries.
While my heart cries, my brush paints. In my own small way I am able to take back the land. In my own small way I am able to remove the structures, the roads, and silence the speedboats and jet skis.
In my own small way I am able to return it to its original beauty and that small way becomes more and more precious with every passing day.
The Artists Journey
This is my blog page and it is where I get to be the opinionated man that I really am. The views are my own.
I invite your replies and comments, on my virtual welcome mat.
This sketch above became this finished painting below
The Pine Tree Painter.
How did I become known as the Pine Tree Painter? You could say I paint a lot of Pine Trees, that would be true. I paint a lot of other things too, but Pine Trees, Spruce Trees, Birch and others seem to be a continuous string in what i do. I just like the way they stand there like a custodian of the land. or a greeter to nature. So, I continue down the path with the Pine Tree Painter name on my head, It's ok.