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A Romantic Walk in the Park.
I never realized how much I romanticized the woods until reading Nxumalo (2019). The woods are where I go when I want to feel calm, and get away from the world. They felt peaceful and innocent. Now when I walk into the forest, I still feel that calm, but there is also a reverence for the woods. An understanding that not everything here has been peaceful. There is a long history that lives in the trunks of the trees. Many stories, not all of them pleasant. And that I am leaving a certain impression on this place. My actions either continue a colonial legacy, or they can help break and bend and bring back and create something different. Something that honours this place.

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Leaves and Bricks.
Throughout this project, I was overwhelmed by patterns. They were everywhere I looked. Every time I stepped out the door I was noticing something new. Some new leaf, some new fence, and noticing how patterns make up the fabric of my world. Not just in nature, but in man made objects as well. The biggest difference though, was that almost all of the human sourced patterns I found were made up of straight lines and right angles. I could not find a circular representation anywhere. The natural elements I was drawn to, however, were all curves and swoops, with vein like lines instead of staunch angles.

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Non-Human Roommates.
If I am sitting on my couch I have a perfect view of my 32gallon fish tank.  I decided to document the passage of time based on the growth of the tank. I took a photo every week over 5 weeks. It has been interesting to look back and see how the tank has changed, especially how much algae growth there has been since I cleaned it in week 1.  The plants have grown some extra height and leaves. There was also a little surprise. One of the shrimp had laid eggs. They hatched and my tank became filled with tiny little baby shrimp. Watching them grow over the past few weeks has brought much joy and a lot of research on shrimp lifecycles.

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Exploration #47 The Shapes of Stains and Splotches

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Exploration #47 The Shapes of Stains and Splotches

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Beautiful Mess.
Water and dirt poured out of a container into the bathtub. It made a beautiful mess. Math does not always have to be pretty.

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Exploration #47 The Shapes of Stains and Splotches

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Exploration #47 The Shapes of Stains and Splotches

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Making Memories.
I did not have to look very hard for a plethora of stains and splotches. Looking at all of the splotches on my kitchen floor was almost like looking at a collective timeline. Memories of all of the meals prepared the past few weeks. I took all of the stains I had found and drew them out, and then layered them together making a visible history of my time in the kitchen. Similar to children's mark making, I can understand and read these splotches. Even though they might not make sense to others, they have meaning to me.

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Nxumalo, F. (2019). Decolonizing place in early childhood education. Routledge.

Pacini-Ketchabaw, V. (2013). Frictions in forest pedagogies: Common worlds in settler colonial spaces. Global Studies of Childhood, 3(4), 355-365.

Smith, K. (2008). How to be an explorer of the world: portable life museum. Penguin.

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Ice, Ice, Baby.
Curious about how water crystalizes, I embarked on an experiment with ice cubes. I wanted to see if adding food colouring to the ice would help me see the crystallization process better. I thought it might enhance the differences between the water and air.
It did not work. It was, in fact, harder to see the different shapes in the ice. However, a new idea formed. What if I could stack water? They were in the same shape as blocks after all.  After much trial and error, and some strategic melting, I was able to stack them 5 high.  Working with the water this way reminded me of the first week of class, in which we were learning about how to see math in different ways. What is possible if we open our minds and let go of old ways of thinking? A pyramid of water, that's what.

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Me And The Sea.
As I wandered the beach, I was left thinking how water moves us, figuratively and literally. My experience with water in this place on the West Coast will be very different to the experience of someone living in a desert. I was stepping over puddles so my feet wouldn't get wet. The birds were resting on the ocean. My mother had taken a ferry to come over to visit me. Every time I see it, I want to dive in to the ocean. I want to feel a connection to it. What is it about water that makes me want to be a part of it? This oceany, foggy, watery place holds many memories for me. I am moved with emotions looking out at it's vastness. I am shaped by this water. The shape of water is me.

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Seashell Symphony.
I went seashell hunting. Usually I look for the most full and perfectly shaped shells, but this time I thought I would only get broken, imperfect shells. Why should I think of only complete shells as worthy of my attention? There is so much beauty in the fractured shells. I took my little collection home and started making different arrangements with them. I created designs, stacks, pictures, placed them in order of size, colour and shape. I started to wonder though, how would the shells arrange themselves if I was not manipulating their every move? I tied them to string and made a sort of chime with them, watching them dance, twirl, sway and move with only the slightest initial prompt from me. Listening to the soft clinks and jangles, creating their own musical arrangement.

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A Tree by any other name.
I am quietly walking through the forest,
My initial reaction is how to categorize all of these trees. How do I classify them? What are the differences in all of these trees? What classifies something as a tree, versus classifies it as a bush?
As this thought comes to my mind, I realize that classification is a product of colonialism. Even my work of discovery is influenced by that ideology. What is an alternative way of thinking? That every tree is connected. The roots of the trees underneath me are all entwined. Underneath the dirt, part of the dirt. The leaves are falling to the ground, which will turn into earth, which will nourish the land and the tree. Cyclical thinking, life cycle, versus beginning, middle, end. What is one thing, is also another, and another, and another...
I am also curious as to the names of these trees. I feel like I need to name them to understand them. But what name would I use? I think in English, but not everyone thinks in English. Naming them with an English name will not help me understand them anymore than I do now.

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Exploration #47 The Shapes of Stains and Splotches

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Exploration #47 The Shapes of Stains and Splotches

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Water Marks.
During my experiment with ice, I noticed another exploration taking shape. The food colouring from the cubes was making it's way onto my hands, leaving marks of my failures and successes. It somehow also made its way onto my shirt and my face, staining my lips blue. It reminded me of this quote,
"What matters is the constant co-shaping that takes place and the messiness that these collaborations bring to forest pedagogies. Through these collaborations and co-shapings, we and the forest share complex histories and presents, making all
of us vulnerable as we build toward implicated, messy futures." (Pacini-Ketchabaw, 2013, p.362).
I was not in the forest, but there was a messiness in my inquiry. I did not mind it on my hands, but I was afraid the dye would ruin my shirt, and quickly washed it away. Now I am left thinking, why? How often is this our reaction. When something doesn't go the way we want, grow where we want, or an idea is too messy, we try to remove it, instead of embracing it and being with the friction...

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One fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.
As I watched my tank grow these past few weeks, I started to notice how many patterns there were in this tiny eco-system. Most of the fish have the same pattern designs on their bodies. Little neon tetras with streaks of red and blue, and kuhli loaches stripped with black and yellow. The swirl made from the snails shells.
Each plant has it's own unique design, but all of the leaves of the plants have the same shape, colouring and often the same size.

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Human Clock.
My partner gets up at the same time everyday like clockwork. He has a very cemented routine. Even though I am still in bed, I know exactly what time it is based on the sounds I hear from him getting ready for work.
...I feel him moving beside me, it must be 6.45am...
...He is getting out of bed, it is 6.50am..
The bathroom door closes. I hear the shower running.. so it must be 7am now...
...7.10am, the shower is off...
...I hear the bedroom door open and the closet open, it is 7.15am...
...The kitchen cupboards and fridge are opening. He is gathering his breakfast and lunch, 7.15am-7.25am...
...At 7.30am He comes back into the bedroom to say goodbye...
...7.31am, the heavy front door shuts loudly, and I know that it's time for me to get up...

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Conversations with Kelp.
I was walking along the beach with my friends and enjoying the day, when we came across several large kelp beds that had washed ashore.  I decided to see if I could pull some apart and organize them largest to smallest. A spirited debate ensued between us as to what it meant to arrange them this way. What determined what made the kelp the largest? Was it the size of the bulb, as I had originally thought? Or perhaps the diameter of the strand of kelp? After much back and forth it was decided that the longest kelp was the largest and the shortest kelp deemed the smallest. My friend commented that the largest one must also be the oldest, which made me reflect on similar comments made by children and the connections we have as humans to others "growing old".

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Water, Water, Everywhere.
I took a drive to Deep Cove on a very rainy day. I wanted to document all of the aspects of water I could find in one place. Rain, Fog, Salt Water, Puddles, Dew Drops, River, Drainpipe, Fountain Facet, Hose, Map of the Inlet. All of these things in one small area, all to do with water.  I was surprised at how large my list had become. I noticed a flock of birds on the water and tried to count them all. I immediately started counting by twos, and I realized that is always my default when counting. I could only get to 80 before the birds changed formation and I lost count. As they moved, ripples formed around them and mixed with waves and rain, creating swirling, individual pockets for each bird before melting back into one.