The Meadow Art Studio

It wasn’t really a decision. Galiano chose me.

I was actually in the middle of putting in an offer on a place on Mayne Island. In retrospect much better suited to me and my needs. A small photo of a forlorn cottage surrounded by old growth trees appeared in the side bar one fateful day. It was a hot mess as far as cottages go, but the property was lovely and I could feel the ley line before I discovered it. Or maybe it was the trees. Or the sea lions. Or the way the light leans sideways through the arbutus trees and makes every surface feel like a canvas.

I came here with the quiet intention of slipping off the grid. I wasn’t running away, exactly—more like gently stepping aside from the noise of the world to wait for something I couldn’t quite name, but knew was coming. Something in my bones told me to listen, to be still, to paint.

The weather here is—well, pretty fantastic. Compared to the 14-foot snowbanks and snow doors of my Newfoundland childhood, it feels like I’ve wandered into an alternate gardening reality. Zone 9. Just the phrase sounds luxurious. I can grow rosemary year-round and scatter flower seeds like spells. The air smells of cedar, wildflowers, volcanic earth, and sun-dried grasses. Strangely, the sea here doesn’t have much of a scent. I miss the briny, full-bodied breath of the Atlantic every single day.

And yes, how I miss Newfoundland.

I think about it at least once a day. I fantasize about returning at least once a day, too. The ache of home never leaves, just shifts places in my chest depending on the hour. But for now, Galiano cradles me. The economy is slightly better. The pace is gentler. The skies are more forgiving.

Island people are their own kind everywhere—fierce, funny, resourceful. Each island sings its own song, and Galiano’s is quieter than most. It hums through the forest trails and dances across driftwood beaches. It lets me breathe. It lets me create.

Choosing Galiano wasn’t about escape. It was about alignment. This place reminds me who I am when everything else is stripped away.