Fifth Journey Day 5: Earth Under Fingertips

Date: May 13, 2025
Location: Kelowna, Canada

I took a slow stroll through the vineyards just outside Kelowna today. There was no rush because the land itself seemed to want to take its time. The vines were arranged in neat rows, creating long, elegant lines that followed the gentle curves of the hills. Most of the trees were bare, with only the first soft green buds starting to come out of the dark wood. They looked delicate, but also determined.

The soil was dry and warm underfoot. Every now and then, I'd stop, crouch down, and run my fingers over the uneven textures: sun-baked dust, sharp pebbles, soft young leaves. The air felt different from the coast — light, dry, and open. I had this weird feeling like the horizon was farther away, like the land just quietly grew while I wasn't paying attention.

I only did a little sketching, just some quick lines in my notebook: curves, patterns, playing around with light and distance. More than anything, I wanted to soak in the quiet beauty of the landscape after days of unpredictable sea and fog. There was something really soothing about the steady climb of the vines, even though they weren't sure what they were climbing towards.

The silence was soft but not empty. I heard bees moving slowly from flower to flower. Every now and then, a faint bird call echoed from somewhere high up the hill. I was happy to just go with the flow for a few hours, no demands, no urgency.

Now, as I sit by the window of my small rented room and watch the sky darken over the lake, I notice the smell of my jacket — earth, grass, faint resin. I think I'll remember that more than any sketch. Sometimes, the drawing happens while you're just walking around.