Field Notes is where I post short, observational pieces about the week behind me—work, home, heritage, and whatever else insists on being noticed.
Nature is great. There’s something profoundly humbling about connecting with land that preceded you by centuries. Life existed there long before your arrival—people, animals, arboreal beings—each leaving behind traces of knowing that terrain in ways you never will. Just think about that.
Imagine the lifetimes of history that a tree is privy to. The stories and events that unfolded there, mostly unbeknownst to you, define the space. As a visitor, you encounter the aftermath—quiet, still, slowly fading, yet somehow intact.
Building a relationship with that land takes the experience to another level. Visit one of your favourite nature spots in a different season and notice how it changes you. The seasons add an entirely new dimension, revealing moods and meanings you hadn’t noticed before.
In winter especially, I find myself forming a renewed relationship with the land around me in South Etobicoke. This year, skating has reshaped that connection. Both indoor rinks and, more importantly, outdoor ones have taught me a new way of thinking—about balance, momentum, and moving forward. And while I’ve found moments of appreciation in the cold, I still find myself plotting my annual winter escape. I must depart for a warmer weather.
In just days, I’ll be leaving for Portugal, and I can hardly wait. It’s a place where my heart feels anchored. Beyond the people, culture, and layered history—beyond the distant familial threads waiting to be rediscovered—it’s the natural beauty that brings me peace. The island climate is gentler than Toronto in February, and this will be my second time witnessing Carnival in Madeira, a celebration that feels as alive as the land itself.
Canada, with its stark winters and shifting seasons, teaches me resilience and presence. Portugal, with its warmth and rhythm, teaches me ease and belonging. One grounds me through ice and silence; the other through sun and movement. And somehow, across oceans and climates, both landscapes have claimed a part of me—each, in its own way, feeling unmistakably like home.
Photos From the Field.
Field Notes.
Fragments from a Portuguese descendant learning where he stands
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