Living Landscapes: The Wild Rhythm of Maui
The moment the girl stepped off the plane in Maui, the island’s vivid wildness enveloped her. The warm, fragrant air welcomed her into the lush, living embrace of the Valley Isle. While many come to Hawaii seeking the renowned golf greens, she found herself captivated by a different kind of green—the untamed beauty of exotic plants. Each leaf, vine, and bloom was a testament to the island’s vibrant pulse, drawing her into its verdant heart.
Coming from a prairie winter, she hadn’t realized how starved she was for color, for movement, for anything that pulsed with life instead of silence. In Alberta, the land was held in suspension—snow-packed fields under a white sky, skeletal trees etched in frost, wind that flattened the world into stillness. A born green thumb, the girl had done her best to remedy the barren landscape at home; she’d turned her bedroom into an oasis with potted plants and fake ivy, but the natural world she’d cultivated there was just that – cultivated. Curated. Controlled. This new setting offered something she found herself desperately seeking in many areas of her life: wild growth, creation and abandon working hand-in-hand.
Here, flora lined the streets and covered the world in lush green. Hibiscus flared in reds and golds. The golden pothos didn’t climb so much as wander upward, vine by vine, always reaching for the sun. The broad, split leaves of the Monstera caught the light in a slow, deliberate way and its ephemeral shadow became her favourite photography subject.
And that was just the start: along the winding road to Hāna, eucalyptus trees guarded the path, their slender trunks reaching toward the sky with an ethereal elegance. Their smooth, silver-gray bark, streaked with shades of purple and red, made each tree appear to shimmer against the backdrop deep emerald. The leaves, long and silken, swayed gently in the cool breeze, releasing a faint, earthy fragrance.
Each morning, her parents would rise before her, and open the windows and balcony door to let in the gentle air. A symphony of birdsong and the gentle ocean breeze welcomed her as she rose: the whole world rousing into a glorious, chaotic chorus as the day progressed. With breakfast in hand, she would settle into the melody of the day and watch as sailboats glided across the horizon and whales breached the vast, open ocean.
“Do you know they don’t need to jump?” her mother had asked her one morning. “The whales don’t need to breach out of the water,” she said. “They just do it because they can. They do it for joy.”
Shortly after, as the girl made her way down a rugged path toward the water, the undulating sea revealed a quiet movement just offshore. Two sea turtles, enormous and ancient, surfaced through the swell. Their backs were patterned like wet stone; their eyes, slow and unreadable. She watched them drift along the tide, letting it pull them back and forth, part of the rhythm of this place. Nothing performed. Nothing tamed.
At home, winter was a season of control. Roads were cleared with precision, paths meticulously shoveled, the world reduced to sharp edges and quiet monotony. But here, in Maui, the world pressed in with a different tempo. Plants erupted through cracks, rainbow-hued trees reached toward the sky, and wildlife met her gaze the moment she looked closely. There was no stillness in this place—only a constant living pulse, wild and ever-present.
Maui did not just offer her a fleeting escape. It offered a reminder that the world, in its abundance and vibrancy, is never truly still. It’s living and breathing and moves with an untamed grace, calling us to surrender. Beneath the swaying palms and amidst the timeless tides of the ocean, she found a quiet awakening—a reconnection with nature’s unspoken language. It whispered that we, too, are part of this living world, as glorious and free as the sea turtles that glide effortlessly through its depths.
That the girl, too, was nature itself: wild and joyful.
