What You're Looking At

When we buy a cottage and when we arrive for the weekend, we show up with intentions. We have plans, we want to make improvements, we want to fix things.

The land becomes a problem to solve before it's had the chance to be a place to observe.

We see what could be better, what's missing, and what needs changing. We see through the lens of what we want.

But the land isn't waiting to be fixed. It's not incomplete without you. It's already doing something: there's water moving through it to the lake, there's light shining on parts of it and shade darkening other parts. Plants are growing, dying, returning.

That's not to say you don't do things. You're part of this landscape, too. But before you do, you see.

Most of what you're looking at has been here longer than you have.