Hope Ness is a special place, a sacred place. There is a spirit here, perhaps of those who since time immemorial came here for spiritual and physical rejuvenation — for healing. She who lived here so many years before me, planted and tended her gardens, raised her boys, and did the best she could to do it justice. She spoke respectfully of First Nation people she saw walking these woods in search of nourishment. She walked beneath the canopy of trees, the “Cathedral” she called it, to the lookout, her favourite place. She looked out across the bay and felt the sacred presence beneath her feet. She held it close to her heart. It sustained her too, gave her moments of joy, restored her spirit. Oh, what I would give to be timeless, to be with her in that moment. She found Hope Ness the day she was born here and never wanted to leave. She was worthy of it. I, who came from another place, am still searching for Hope Ness, still finding it. Maybe I will go into the forest and find my special place finally, among the trees and the wild friends who live there.