Murky water March 29 2015 2 Comments


When I was young we had a rustic family camp in what was then called Fairvale, now part of Rothesay in New Brunswick. Once owned by my great grandparents, our camp was at the end of longish driveway off the Gondola Point Road.

Our summer camp had no phone, no electricity, no indoor bathroom and no running water.

We did have mice in the crannies, squirrels in the roof, two large gardens (one vegetable, one with strawberries, rhubarb and raspberries), apple trees, giant climbing trees, a trapeze, an extra high flying swing and two outhouses (one two-seater and one you hoped you never had to use).

Most of the time my brother, sister and I could be found playing barefoot and half naked in our secluded little part of the world. When we tired of playing Kick the Can, King of the Castle or hanging by our toes from the trapeze, we would head out to go swimming.

Our camp wasn't on the water, although we thought it was. Towels in hand we would take off running. I would gallop using a broken tree branch as my horse, believing I was Dale Evans. 

We ran down the path, through the woods, and past a small dump, leaping over fallen logs, not stopping until we reached the frog pond where we would spend a while looking for tadpoles and frogs. The water was murky, thick with reeds, yet magical and fascinating. We navigated across the pond stepping on old boards and fallen trees. 

At full speed again, we flew through the woods until we came to the Big Rock – a mountain to us, bigger than a house, and a natural jungle gym - perfect for climbing and exploring. 

Then, on to the water, but first we had to get through the Witch's Cave, a deep crevice we named to match its threatening feel.

Once safely out of the cave, we made haste through the last part of the woods, emerging at the beach at the bottom of Cameron Road. 

After our swim, everything was done in reverse. The trickiest and most fascinating part of our trip was always the frog pond, where we would stop and gaze deeply, as our imaginations pondered what might lay in its murky water.

The plate I made this week brings back memories of the murky water of the frog pond. Mysterious. Mesmerizing. And reminiscent of days lived in my imagination.

You can see the "Sushi plate - Murky water" here.

Check out other Glass by Charis pieces here

You can see my paintings here.

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