It has only been a few months since my family and I moved away from our "treehouse" home of 30 years on Salt Spring Island to our new home here on the east coast of Vancouver Island. Because both islands are located on the west coast of British Columbia, they share much of the same impressive geography, ideal for landscape photography; however, everything here is on a much grander scale (Vancouver Island is 32100 km2 compared with Salt Spring's 185 km2).

Since we moved here, we've been constantly amazed at the superabundance of expansive parks, nature reserves and trail systems where natural beauty abounds surrounded by the magnificence of the mountains.

For me, the creeks and waterfalls on Salt Spring always appealed to my poet's imagination as I stood next to the invigorating sounds of water gurgling, streaming, rushing and thundering, absorbed in the almost prehistoric atmosphere at the bottom of ravines, taking my time to compose with my camera atop its tripod.

And now, wider waterways welcome us photographers to capture some of their remarkable features. One of our dear friends has been guiding us to local spots where we've been able to explore the natural world in its pristine state with hardly another soul in sight. Two days before Christmas, on a very misty morning, my photographer brother, Michael and I left our house just after dawn to reach the Chemainus River Provincial Park before the sun had risen too high. We wanted to capture the bed of quiet river stones lying so still, waiting for the refreshing water to polish their sun-parched skin. After meandering along the river, perched on moss-covered boulders, we came upon this enchanting scene where the filtered sunlight created an emerald vision in which the trees were adorned with silvery garlands reminiscent of hoar frost as if to announce the coming of Christmas.