all the elements that make up anishinaabe life through ojibway makwa ikawe embodiment + anishinaabe feminist lens

Summer Rumbles

Over the next six weeks I’ll be uploading short posts about my travels home to (and in) Anishinaabewaki from Lekwungenwaki. The party, in all its precarity, starts Aug. 21.


18 manoomin giizis 2021 | 10:11 pm | Lekwungenwaki, P’kals (Mt. Tolmie) foothills

Dear Travelling-ikawewag, Anna, Jack, Sissy, Norval, Michael, and Jamaica,

Heading home soon—gizhe manidoo willing. Prep includes but is not limited to asemaa for persons on the side of the road, nibi for libations of drought and fire-raged lands, double vaccinations (of the same vaccination) and vaccination card and mask, a pocket knife, playlists, and podcasts. Packing my ricing sticks and paddle, fixings for tobacco ties, and sources for a chapter due Sept. 1st. Happy to be travelling with Daabaan, Gaazhak, Miigwaanag, and ElleDoubleU. Trying to get all the visiting and work done here before I leave but pretty sure I won’t be able to. Getting gifts for everyone—being able to get gifts for everyone—is my favourite part. Stressed, excited, faithful.

Fishies for Beloved Nishies (Aug. 14, Sne-Nay-Muxw)

i like that we meet here now

and i like that you listened to me.

i like that you respected my boundaries even though i miss your random showing up in my dreams or on my social.

there are different kinds of fires —those that blaze wildly, fast and furious, can cause damage, burn quick and then out. and there are sacred fires. fires started in ancient times and are ignited again and again with care and discipline. boundaries. care. respect. slowness. long hauls. i’m glad i had the wherewithal to avoid building the first kind of fire with you. and, that you let it be so. because of that, here we are. and to me, it feels good. i value you in my life and it feels good to have the door open; to have niibin flowing between us.

i like that we meet here now, that you listened to me. it makes my heart burn stronger. even as it means less of you in a kind of way, it means more of you in another kind of way that runs deeper in me. i can respect you. i can think of you righteously. i respect you. i think of you righteously. miigwech for letting that happen. and mostly, it means you care to let me know you know i am not a plaything. you will not do that even as i poked at your ego. taunted. tested. i understand full well that this may actually not be a listening, a caring, a boundary-respecting; that it could be a great retreat born from a “idgaf about this or you” and yet my heart tells me different. the great thing about meeting here is it’s safe for both of us. so, let me continue down the path of what my heart tells me:

i’m coming home soon and i wonder if the vibrations of our Ojibway world change frequency when we’re in the same territory. i will think of you when i’m there. sometimes, in this life at the beginning of the ocean, i steal away to think of you, to recall that beautiful fleeting moment of us. i close my eyes and recall some of our beautiful moments. oh.

and, i like to imagine that you steal away from your beautiful life once in awhile to think of me, too. i like to imagine a song reminds you of me or feelings we had. i like to think that you might, on occasion, want to be with your own quiet thoughts of me, alone, overlooking the lake or somewhere just in your daaban. that maybe on occasion you want to remember me. to feel the memory of our vibration.

you know, it’s not common for a man today to see a warrior in a woman and to love that about her. to see it and know it and still walk towards her. to see it and know it and be unwavering in his own warrior self, to know that combined it would just make more Ojibway beauty. you made me stronger in so many ways. and your kindness in that humbles me even as you were looking for something back i couldn’t give. i hope that the feelings were enough to ignite you. to make you want to live more fully, more vibrantly, more within yourself and accepting of yourself.

i like that we meet here now.

i wonder if we’ll ever see each other again.

deep like winter, stirring like spring

makwa is turning around in her den this month, giving birth to her babies. Mindimoyen is ceremony-ing her and teaching Anishinaabeg to do the same. That beautiful inini with twinkling eyes who loves Anishinaabe life, trapping, his wife, and his grandkids also honours this month. The old Irish ways celebrate the stirrings of spring and new life deep in the ground like us too. They call it Brigid day. Since I’ve been learning about this moon cycle and what it means for us, and since I was able to practice this meaning over several years when I was home in my territory, I’ve come to feel makwa giizis in my belly. I feel her deeply like I feel for that Ojibwe man who won’t seem to leave my body. I have never tried to get rid of those feelings, I just closed a door so they wouldn’t be fanned. I still don’t want them fanned. I just figured they would go away.

He’s a man who only seems to know himself when he’s bound up tight with a woman, making babies. And, like Anishinaabeg men who’ve been taught by settlers, when I knew him, he was a man who learned he can just step out when he gets bored, honouring nothing and no one but his own needs. I am not that step. I am not that toy. It hurts to even remember that he saw me as such. I hope he got the message. From me. And other women.

Even if he is a colonized man, he is a good man. I know his Ojibwe goodness. His goodness makes me feel alive.

And still, despite long-close doors and messy human ways, makwa is stirring in her den and spring is here in my belly for him.

I’ve come to accept that life has just put those feeling there, made embers in my body for him. I didn’t ask for them; I don’t feed them. I want to feed them though. I want to feel alive. Also, the settlers and their valentine’s day, the freshly fallen snow, the need to retreat into something beautiful has me wanting to write this fire out into the world.

There is something else: he, or his pawaaman, is working dreamtime with me. Has been for years, even when we were actively in relationship. Even after I closed the door. Fasting dreamtime and every day dreamtime. The first time, it was his clan and every time after, it was him. I won’t get into how he was in those dreams but I will say this: when he came to me that last time, it was clear, purposeful and beautiful. I lay in bed all morning wanting to keep the dream close. It gave me life. I told a girlfriend who understood instantly. We laughed so much and shared stories. It was so good to have a girlfriend who knows the whole lying-in-bed-as-long-as-you-can-to-keep-the-dreamtime-from-slipping-away way of being.

I don’t understand him though: he comes to me in beautiful ways and then he retreats. On the occasion I do go see about him, he’s put up a big sign: taken.

Well then, if you’re so taken quit coming to me in dreamtime loving on me and in my daytime putting hearts in my world.

Maybe he’s a scaredy cat.

Maybe he’s fishing

            to have his ego stroked,


I will not be fodder for his ego or the banality of his life—again.

And, something new: what he doesn’t know is that now, I have a bear with lures in her belly who keeps the men who toy with my heart in her den.

Beyond the games, he feels there is something here.

I want to believe that.

What else can this be but Ojibwe love?

He knows he is in me and maybe he’s not toying. Maybe he just wants a sign from me to assure him that he is still in my heart. Maybe he wants to know this. And maybe he wants me to know I’m still in his. And maybe he wants all this without the pressure of having to perform or give up something. Maybe he wants to be a good man and he wants to love more than one at a time.

Maybe he should read Kim Tallbear.

Maybe he should do something to demonstrate a pondering of me and all my wants.

I am a makwa ikawe feminist. I don’t turn my life over for men. I have learned not to play tricks on myself when it comes to them. And yet, this situation, whatever it is, can’t be denied. I won’t deny it. I don’t want to. I want to be moved. I want to be fired up. I want to be in love and lust. I want to feel the feelings. I want to be in the feeling of caring. I want to believe that Ojibwe love is a thing and I want to believe that it’s more powerful than settler everything including settler gender games. I want to believe this.

I recall the heat between us. I could easily walk in(to a) life with him. An original, righteous and beautiful life of Ojibwe relationship—with care, mutual respect, supporting each other in our different paths. A real good kind of way of being with each other, one with lots of breathing room. A non-traditional way of being because I am a travelling-ikawe. He knows this.

I don’t know what it is between us but it is a gift to my spirit. It inspires me to imagine legacies of Ojibwe love. It fuels me to want to ignite these legacies and keep something of it going for the future. Maybe he is not a physical love for this place and time. Maybe he is my muse and maybe together we can create something beautiful and hot and life-giving for our people without ever touching each other.

Maybe what is between us is an ancient bundle. An old, old bundle of embers. Glowing. Flickering. Set down by the trail of our intersecting lives in another time, buried deep like winter and stirring like spring.

This is Our Creation Story. It’s For All Time.

For those of us who are familiar with it, how often do we, as Anishinaabeg, recall and reflect on our creation story? How often to we remember that creation began with ikawe who made land and continued life with the help of many more-than-human ones and her nokomis?

Remember the significance of Anishinaabe ikawe in Anishinaabe life-making, world-making, land-making. Remember how necessary it is to ensure she is supported with the materials and subsistence she needs to do this life-making, world-making, and land-making. Remember the umbilical cord of our life is the maternal line.

Anishinaabe ikawewag–despite the denigration, the forgetting, the erasure, the suffering, the burdens–the path requires a walk that is always walked with dignity and surety about this legacy and this future.

Odoodis. Odoodosh. Odoodem.

Belly button. Breast. Clan.


Anishinaabeg recognize that we each are born into this world with inherent gifts from gizhe manidoo. In times when we were living off the land, how we organized and valued each other was based on different kinds of markers and categories such as clan, region, clothing, likely material property or the power of our stories, how well we did our work and was it with spiritual accordance (i.e. did we feast our dreams, names, do our seasonal ceremonies, etc.). I imagine we were awed by our ability to create and sustain human life within and with the larger systems of the natural world. Spirit, mystery, sperm, egg; chemistry, magic, pragmatism. Directions, creation, water, food.

We are living in a time where global and settler structures force us to be separate from everything and categorize everything according to value or worthiness: class, sexuality, gender, marital status, race, ability, status-non-status, rez-off-rez-rural-urban, cultural knowledges, education, job, etc.

Calling for a remembrance to center ikawe is not calling for a decentering of anyone else. Calling for a remembrance to center ikawe is not predicated on heirarchizing us into more than or better than. Calling for a remembrance of centering ikawe arises from the way, today, global, settler, and even fellow Anishinaabeg (including some ikawewag themselves) allow her to go without, deny her support and care or neglect her, devalue her for being on her own or alternatively use her because they think she is sexually available or exploitable, and erase her contributions to world-making, life-making, and land-making. Anishinaabeg life started with giizhigo ikawe, her more-than-human helpers, and her grandmother.

This is our creation story. It’s for all time. Do what you can to contribute to keeping our first story alive and strong. This does not mean we can’t keep feasting other stories or making news ones that recognize and honour. It just means this is our creation story and it’s for all time.

Orange Shirt

today, the white lady is wearing orange.

when the white lady is racist to me, i have to escape.

today, i escape to my daaban which i used to get to where i needed to go this morning instead of walking and am glad for it. daaban equals quick escape.

in daaban i escape to P’KALS to get away from it as in above it, higher than it. to get distance from it by putting myself right in the heart of another peoples sacredness. their mountain. i don’t remember driving here.

i reach out to a friend. she responds. she rages for me because right now my goal is to get back in my body sitting here in sacred. raging will only fragment me further. she uses the worst names she can. this is “bloody cow”. it works like medicine. my body starts to come back. i start to come back into my body. she is sick at home in her bed and i am sick on this mountain in my chariot. although she is over there and i am here, it’s like she holds my hands as we lower ourselves to the ground, her eyes never leaving mine: you are ok. you are ok. you are ok. we are kneeling on the ground and we are looking at each other and it seems like i’m returning closer to reality hearing her say: you are ok, you are ok, you are ok. incantation-ing me “back to here”.

i am ok enough to let go. she is sick and needs to rest her throat. an then, a text just in from a another. “i’m here talking to _______ and she is telling me about her experience with ________.” surreal. how can these women from worlds away be having the same kind of conversation i am having with another woman about the same woman in an orange shirt. the same treatment. the same impact. how can all four of us brown women be connected in this moment to this one white woman in an orange shirt this way? surreal. “funny. i left there to come here to recover from her racism.”

i’m almost back.

i’m back enough to drive home and when here, another layer of escape: strip the clothes off that carry the racism of the white lady in an orange shirt against me. naked. pace. pace. pace. now what? i can’t escape my insides out.



cool white sheets. cool white curtains. cool white duvet. it is early afternoon and the lighting is easy. you are ok. you are ok. you are ok.

medicine bundle jumps up and purrs his vibrations into my space. medicine bundle curls up in the crook of my arm and stares at me waiting for me to make eye contact. i do. so begins the ceremony: purring. gazing. breathing.

purring. gazing. breathing.

you are ok. you are ok. you are ok.

my body is back together again.

i’ve missed the Orange Shirt Day event. i’ve missed the book launch on Ubuntu relations. i’ve lost 4 plus hours of the afternoon. i am back enough together to write.

i do.

i sleep.

Summer Solstice

Remember, Anishinaabeg, to offer a little something to the spirits—the ones that belong to the place where you live and our own. We like to do it up and it feels so good to do it up with others but it doesn’t have to be real “dead-leh”. Many of us don’t have much, or maybe we can’t get outside; maybe we don’t have access to traditional things like medicines or food. Still, we can offer a little something, anything. It’s the power of our thoughts, intentions and action and it’s the power of all of us offering something collectively as Anishinaabeg that is doing the work for our future and honouring our ancestors.

It feels good to make a little something for an offering. It’s feel like self care and community care. It feels just right to feast the spirits on solstice. It feels good for the spirit.

Me? I was able to get a bit of manoomin last summer in Leech Lake so I had that on hand. The nuts and seeds and odeminaan I used are no doubt bound up in unethical labour and land dispossession. I offer thoughts for all that. I bought some wild coho salmon in recognition of the local Lekwungen and WSANEC peoples and all their relations. Cooked it up with good thoughts and gratitude. Was thinking about all the supernatural ones that look out for this place that I know next to nothing about but know enough that folx here care about such things just as do we. Was thinking about all the folx who have helped me and my kid along the way. Gratitude for our Beebs. Was thinking about niibin manidooyag and being in ceremony this time last years at the petroglyphs in michi saagiig territory. Was thinking of my Dad who I had just dropped in to visit in the hospital in Bawating after having a stroke. Friends. Went up PKOLS behind my apartment, faced home (waabanong) and made a few acknowledgements, found a Garry Oak and laid the spirit food at its base. Then, I got the heck out of there. I didn’t want to rush or look too conspicuous because there’s lots of people around on the trails who would might ask questions or police me about putting food out—wild animals and all you know. Anyhow, that’s what I did on this Father’s Day, this Indigenous Peoples Day (in Canada) and this solstice.

It feels good to be Anishinaabe. nahaaw, mii sa iw.

The Ways IBPOC People & Allies are Challenging Racism and Colonialism

This is a collated list of resources created by my friend Rita Kaur Dhamoon which she shared with a group of people who are engaged in decolonial anti-racism work. With Rita’s permission, I am sharing here. (At the very end there are additional links I have added or will add to as an addendum).


I sit here thinking of the family and friends of Floyd George and all the people standing up to protest his violent murder by the police. Another Black death by police. For those interested in reading more and/or who are able to take action re: George Floyd, you might see following: I started documenting some of the ways in which Indigenous peoples, Black peoples, East Asians, and other people of colour, sometimes with some allies, are currently challenging ongoing racism and colonialism across Canada. Here is some of that:


o    Regis Korchinski Paquet, a 29 year old Black woman, died from a fall from the balcony. The police were the only ones in the apartment with her. Her mother had originally called 911 after a family conflict that left the 29-year-old in a state of “distress”, but now fears that her daughter was pushed. Relatives of Korchinski-Paquet have said she was in the midst of a mental health crisis.

o    D’Andre Campbell, a 26 year old Afrikan man, was fatally shot by Peel Police in his home while he was experiencing a mental health crisis, on May 7th 2020. The Special Investigations Unit (SIU), which has taken over the probe, said preliminary information indicates that two officers discharged conducted energy weapons before one of the officers fired his gun multiple times. Campbell’s eldest sister, Michelle Campbell, said she is traumatized after witnessing the incident.

o    Eisha Hudson, an Indigenous teenager, was shot by police on April 8 2020, following a police chase in response to a liquor store robbing. She was pronounced dead in hospital. The Manitoba Advocate for Children and Youth announced that they will do their own investigation. The Indigenous Bar Association has called for an inquiry.

o    Jason Collins, an 36 year old Indigenous man, was shot and killed by an unnamed police officer following a call regarding a domestic incident just hours after the death of Eisha Hudson also by Winnipeg police. Police claim they left the house after arriving to help de-escalate the situation. Police shot Collins 40 minutes after they arrived at his home, after saying he walked out the front door and threatened them. Eishia’s father William Hudson was a close friend of Jason Collins.

o    Stewart Kevin Andrews, a 22 years old Indigenous man, died near the Maples after police shot him while responding to a reported robbery. He was shot on April 18th 2020. The police injured a 16 year old boy who was with Andrews. He was the third Indigenous person to be killed by Winnipeg police in 10 days, and the fourth police shooting victim in the city in 2020.

  • An online resource created by Desmond Cole on “Remembering 27 Black, Indigenous and racialized people killed by Canadian police”
  • Ziyian Kwan and others stage a peaceful anti-racism performance in the courtyard near the Chinese Cultural Centre in Vancouver, British Columbia on Monday, May 11, 2020. They helped to raise further awareness about anti-Chinese and other Asian racism, including:
  • Of the 15 hate crimes reported to Vancouver Police in April, 11 were anti-Asian.
  • On April 2nd, Vancouver’s Chinese Cultural Centre was defaced with racist hate and death threats..
  • On April 12, an Asian woman was punched in the face.
  • On April 14, a woman from the northern community of Kuujjuaq, Nunavik harassed and a stranger spat towards her and told her to leave the country after mistaking her as Chinese.
  • On April 15, a white man told two Asian women to “go back to your own country” while on a bus. A non-Asian woman intervened to tell the man to leave the women alone, but he grabbed, kicked and punched her before leaving bus.
  • On April 22, a 51 year old Asian man was attacked outside his home in Vancouver.
  • In late April a woman was attacked by a stranger after screaming “You are the reason my daughter is sick”. He then punched her in the face several times before throwing her head against the seats.
  • In March, a 92 year old Asian man with dementia was attacked by a white male after the white male made racist remarks about covid-19.
  • On May 28, the lion statues in Vancouver’s Chinatown were hit with racist graffiti again.
  • Statues outside a Buddhist temple were pulverized with a sledgehammer.
  • Since the semi-shut due to the pandemic, an article in the Toronto Sun by Tarek Fatah expounded at how Muslims were engaging in “virus jihad.” In Calgary, a video went viral showing a neighbour screaming at her Muslim neighbours (who were sitting in their own property) with racist invective. In Thunder Bay, a Muslim physician was screamed at with racist language at a store when buying groceries. In Hindu nationalist ilk, a non-Muslim South Asian councillor for Brampton City, Ravi Hooda, wrote Islamphobic tweets after the Mayors decision to allow mosques to broadcast azaanover loudspeakers during Ramadan.
  • #HealthNotHatecampaign
  • Report a racist incident to online Elimin8hate The Elimin8hate reporting centre will collect data on incidents of racism, hate and violence experienced by the Asian diaspora in Canada. In the aggregate, data will be used to develop strategies, design interventions, raise awareness, advocate for policies and improve outcomes for our communities. All personal information will be kept confidential and will not be shared without your consent. All data will be used anonymously. This project is in collaboration with Project 1907.
  • On Friday March 13, 2020, project 1907 hosted Vancouver’s first #IWillEatWithYoudinner, in support of Chinatown businesses impacted by racism and xenophobia resulting from COVID-19. 50% of the funds accumulated from #IWillEatWithYou went toward paying much-needed wages for staff at Floata. With 25% of the funds accumulated, we purchased 100 meal vouchers to Kent’s Kitchen, another local Chinatown business. The vouchers were distributed to the residents of the May Wah Hotel (single-room occupancy in Chinatown). The remainder of the funds went towards fulfilling essential needs of low-income seniors isolated as a result of COVID-19.
  • Take a Bystander Intervention Training
  • On Black Grief”– Black Lives Matter Toronto (May 15th 2020)
  • Regis Korchinski Paquet – “Justice for Regis”fund:
  • Eisha Hudson – ‘Justice For Eisha’campaign:
  • Prison-Justice Action:
  • On April 4 2020: physically distanced sign hangings at the Surrey Immigration Holding Centre.
  • On April 26, noise demonstrations were held at the Fraser Regional Correctional Centre and the Alouette Correctional Centre for Women, both in Maple Ridge.
  • On April 17 and April 19, physically-distance demos at Mission and at the Surrey holding centre.
  • On May 3, noise demonstration (in cars or safe physical distance from others) at Mission Institution in B.C.  Mission Institution is experiencing the largest prison outbreak in Canada. The B.C. government said in early May that 133 inmates and staff have tested positive for COVID-19. Across Canada, as of early May 2020, 290 federal inmates have been infected and 155 have recovered, according to federal figures.

The Vancouver Prison Justice Day Committee is calling for the urgent care of all prisoners across Canada and the immediate release of detainees to ensure adequate physical distancing and quarantine measures. The group is also calling for broader testing of all prisoners, and daily updates with details of the situation for their family members. Prisoners inside the medium-security building could hear the noise being made outside and responded immediately with noise of the their own. There were cheers, shouts, banging, and drumming. One prisoner hung a “Thank you” banner out a window. Another thank-you sign appeared, then one saying, poignantly, “Help us.” People inside started drumming in rhythm with the noise being made by the activists outside. There were waves and claps. This interaction kept up for most of an hour.

Please correct any of my errors. And please add to this list if you are able.

My heart with all those who stand up, fight back, and build alternate relations and communities.



Additional Links:

Shenequa Golding, “Maintaining Professionalism in the Age of Black Death Is…. A Lot”, May 28, 2020

Colinda Clyne et. al., “Annotated Bibliography: A Resource for Ontario Educators Learning about Racism”, 2020

Justin Scott Campbell, “Trauma Makes Weapons of Us All: an interview with adrienne maree brown”, May 10, 2018

Danielle Cadet, “You’re Black Colleagues May Look Like They’re Ok—Chance are They’re Not” Refinery29, May 28. 2020


Indigenous Entertainment to Nurture Indigenous Relations of Care in Pandemic Times

It was recently reported that the Navajo Nation has the highest per capita rate of COVID-19 infections in the US. As a way to raise funds to support, Navajo filmmaker Blackhorse Lowe’s Fukry (2019) is streaming free until midnight May 21 (not sure of time zone) on VIMEO. Donation to any of a number of organizations that Lowe supports and who are accepting donations can be obtained here.

Also, Good Medicine Comedy Fundraiser is happening May 22 at 8pm PDT. This is meant to support tribal communities in dealing with the impacts of COVID-19. Indigenous and allied comedians are putting this on. Ever. 🙂

I know what I’m watching tonight and tomorrow!

Maria Hupfield’s playful, poetic approach to Decolonizing the Museum

Beautiful April on a Lekwungen Mountain in Victoria, B.C.

There is a mountain in Victoria, B.C. popularly known as Mt. Doug but originally known and named by WSÁNEĆ peoples as PKOLS. The Lekwungen peoples, whose lands and waters Victoria made itself upon, have a mountain they also call PKOLS (Cheryl Bryce, personal communication). It’s popularly known by it’s settler name, Mt. Tolmie. I live on the slopes of Lekwungen PKOLS. It’s beautiful. In summer, it’s grasses are yellow and throughout the fall, winter, and spring, it’s green. It’s home to ĆENÁŁĆ (“Garry oak” in the SENĆOTEN language of the WÁSANEĆ)* , kwetlal, and deer. It offers a 360 degree view of mountain ranges, ocean, straits, and islands. The celestial action too, is incredible. On a windy day, I enjoy witnessing the various birds–seagulls, sparrows, osprey, and eagles–play around on the currents. There is a thicket of invasive blackberries that the baby bunnies love to run around in until well past twilight. This week, my girl and I have been walking PKOLS and enjoying the beauty of this place.


mid-way up. 28 namebin giizis (Sucker Moon/April)



theres a little patch of kwetlal in the above photo. this is close up. also known as camas.



in a little meadow at the “entrance” to Mt. Tolmie. there were about 7 deer. they let us get really close. this one’s new antlers are growing. this Ojibway man told me that the velvet on deer antlers is used as love medicine. 28 namebin giizis.



Olympic Mountains, south of Victoria, over the water and in Washington state. Photos taken with my phone so are not the best. On the waterfront over there, to the right of that tall apartment building, is Port Angeles (you can’t see the lights twinkling here). This is the ‘big town’ that the teenagers in the film series Twilight would go to for entertainment.



midway up. 25 namebin giizis. This is the crescent moon for May (waawaaskone giizis/Flower Moon). The bright star is actually the planet Venus (I forget the anishinaabe name for this.) This sky, its clarity and the blues,  the colours of the sunset, reminds me of spearing back home with my friend. The only thing missing is the sound of frogs. 

Right now, when I step outside, the air is so fragrant. I don’t know what the flower is but it is powerful. It reminds me of lilacs along the Otonabee river in Mississauga country. The power of the natural world to bring joy and health is incredible. I miss spring back home–the maple sap, the spearing for pickerel and occassional muskey, the leeks, the asparagus (not indigenous, but wilding from farmers fields), the fiddleheads, the mushroom hunting–but I love being in this place and getting to know it. There is so much to be grateful for in the memories and the living.




* Nancy J. Turner and Richard J. Hebda, Saanich Ethnobotany: Culturally Important Plants of the WSÁNEĆ People (Victoria: Royal BC Museum, 2012),78. Note: “Saanich” is an anglicization of WSÁNEĆ and is a popular name used throughout Victoria.