26~Nova Scotian Gold: A Happy Homestead

'...people don't take trips-trips take people.' ~ John Steinbeck

Having put down tiny soul roots across Novia Scotia, I found myself uprooted once more. Transplanted to the farm lands of Annapolis Valley, I came across these boxes labelled 'Scotian Gold'. Their actual contents unknown to me, but I believe this land to be rife with treasures- spiritual and physical. So the label swam in my head as I bathed in the pleasures and wonder of the Valley, rooting a little down in the Scotian Gold soil of Woodville.

Aside from sweet potato fries, a great view (which I keep referring to as the 'Look Out' having been corrected numerous times, I can inform you it is called the  'Look Off') and hearing that Woodville is cute University town, I had not really thought about my next stop too much. In fact, I had gone against my own travelling advice and only booked one night at an airbnb (the only one in the area, no hostels either in this neck of the woods). 

It had all felt like a whirlwind: the final jam-packed events of Yarmouth, the whirlwind wedding in Lunenberg, the dash back across Nova Scotia to hit Wolfville before heading up to PEI. Bish, bash, bosh. It just isn’t for me. I realised as well that I was beginning to tire. Rae-Ann and I discussed this. She is a solo traveller that has hit all sorts of far flung places. Her friends always tell her she is lucky and that they are jealous. Which they of course they mean in the nicest possible way. She works ever so hard and makes these longer extended breaks and more exotic/adventurous locations her choices. Telling people you are tired out from having a great time and seeing the world does not really go down too well, from her experience and now from mine. They want to tell you just to jog on. I kept my fatigue under wraps but it was creeping over my body. So after the SatNav took me to a location that was not my airbnb address, I pulled over. I took a moment. The air was sweet with the breath of the surrounding apple orchards in the late afternoon breeze; these farm lands with rows of perfectly planted trees, quite a new Novia Scotian treat for my senses. These are the grape growing lands of Nova Scotia; Annapolis Valley where provincial wine (like the tipple I enjoyed so much on my birthday) comes from. Standing outside the car, my trusted beast, I surveyed the land. Then, I turned off the navigational system, went with my gut and found my way. Meanwhile, shaking off the tired feeling that threatened to consume me in a cloak of dullness. I had to vanquish my desire to hit the sack. Like LM back at the lakeside sung out each time I left, 'Be safe, honey, and don't miss a minute!' 

The stars were in my favour. An auspicious booking drew me from my inertia. Like shafts of sunlight breaking through a cloudy day, Kristin and Henry, who had a Lucy dog scrabbling in his arms, bounded up to me from the farm land. It was so strange. I knew them. I felt like I knew them. They were friends. Old friends. Resurrected somewhat from my sluggishness; rejuvenated by this new setting of an Annapolis Valley wonderland, more prepossessing and propitious people (and another comfy princess bed). 

The next day it came to me that Kristin has the unique spirit and look of Sal who is back in Morocco. Henry is a Londoner and lived in Bristol and has a certain lovely way about him, like the loveliest of the blokes I meet back home. They both felt my collapse into their cheery welcome. Pictures of health, sunkissed and earthy hands from working the land, Henry raises his eyebrows: Has Nova Scotia been running you ragged? They ask. Party time, eh? Not exactly, well sort of, see there was this wedding and I was lakeside and…

They usher me and my blathering with good humour, kindness and hospitality, into their kitchen. Kristin has made courgette muffins and we have a sit down and a chat like old friends. I surprise myself and say, rather candidly and somewhat blunt, ‘Have you got any one staying tomorrow? I already know I would love to stay another night.’ Of course, Kristin says, we would love to have you. Phew, I am glad I had not booked anything else because it would be a shame to fly this nest too soon and the big drive to PEI, even in my favourite wheels, just was not something I could face the following day. I feel invigorated to hear about their set up here. They want to live off the land they have managed to buy and have spent the winter months alone, renovating their house. It is something else. Already lovely as it is but soooo much potential too. I enjoy flicking through her farmhouse decor book. Losing myself in the homes photographed. They say the views, sunrises, landscapes have been spectacular; Henry has loved watching the season and land change over the months. 

It is all a learning curve for them. They set out on this venture, bought this homestead after driving around the area and waiting for it to come down in price. They may sell produce at markets- the organic tomatoes are going well and they just have a sign out on the roadside. Henry is a former teacher. This boy was immersed in the real London rat race; biking morning and night to and from school to work his butt off. It is his 'insurance policy' and something to fall back on should their farm dream fail. Every morsel of happiness and success they deserve, so I believe their aspirations will come to fruition. They tell me that potentially they will run workshops and farming classes, not just depend on the land. Everyone loves Henry, everyone loves Kristen. I can see them running something like this. 

They both are assimilating themselves into life here. Kristin is part of a group of women that have crafting sessions. They take it in turns to host the girls at their homesteads and bake, no doubt with goodies fresh from their land. While Kristin and I cook, a lady from the group swings by and they discuss the chickens and the veggies, life in general, and the next ‘Bitch and Stitch’. Doors are always left open, I do not need a key and neighbours just swing by; everyone is always welcome and people here ready to receive guests. 

Henry does not attend the 'Bitch and Stitch' events; his badge of belonging comes in the form of extra-curricular volunteer sessions at the Woodville Fire Fighting Service just down the road. I liken it to a grown up version of Cubs but this is actually serious and a necessity in these areas. Does he wear a firefighters uniform and everything? I ask. Yes, he was called out to something last night too but it was not that serious, Kristin reveals. That is pretty hot, isn’t Kristin? (I have always had a little thing for firemen). Not really, she says, because it is Henry I just find it funny! Kristin says that she has grown up around Canadian men. Archetyply chaps that know about cars, have tool sheds- you know, manly men. Henry reckons he is on the way to becoming a Canadian burly type. He does have an increasing list of good credentials and his truck is huge. My SUV looks positively demure alongside his truck in the drive.

View from my room

The little sparkle that I had left, has refused to be squelched out. Pulling energy from those last reserves,  I find my feet. I hike the trails nearby and manage two glorious runs. Immediately enamoured by the farm family here, my roots are well established. Lucy dog captures my heart. 

Lucy plops herself right on my yoga mat

They call her a little wombat; to me she is a baby piglet, a wriggler with extreme agility, lavishing love and licks (particularly predilection for licking hair!), charming everyone where ever she scampers. Henry arrives at the homestead, rescued by a local (knowledgeable in the field of soil, reveals Henry)- he has been locked out of his truck at the gas station by an excitable, inquisitive Lucy. Her skittish and zealous movements had forced the lock, leaving poor Henry stranded, but not for long in these friendly parts. Lucy loves everyone and everything; she gets all that love right back. A clear message for what you put in, you get back if I ever saw one.

Kristin is the kind of girl I could spend my days with. Natural, fresh, full of smiles and warmth. An avant-garde farmer gal, with grace. I watch her from my window, heading across the land in her red hunter wellies. Her home made bread and pastry skills are to be marvelled. She tells me she was wwoofing on a farm back on the West Coast of Canada. The farmer woman taught them all how to bake bread and she has done it ever since. They need the sustenance and carbs for the daily farming activities and they have two ravenous young German boys who currently reside on the farm. They are big lads with appetites that are never satisfied. Reminds me of Adam. Whole halves of melons with the spoon left in and monstrous bowls of Weetos, the chocolately milk residue sticky in the bowl. Ewwwwww. I remember the day Steph went into his bedroom looking for the dog. It was mid afternoon, a hot sticky day and Adam lifted the duvet to reveal a snoozing Jasper, in the boy pit and a whole lot of food wrappers. Quite gross. A big snacking boy, endlessly gorging. Where do these big lads put the calories they consume? The German boys are not teenagers and certainly not slobs (sorry Adam Wolff, at the Weeto and melon point in your life, you were a bit of a sloth), they are polite, sweet, hard working and trained well. Their mothers would be proud.  

They also don’t have a penchant for candy, meat is their bag. Kristin and Henry do eat meat (not necessarily daily) but are not carnivorous in the way the German lads are. There is a big event here in Woodville coming up at the weekend; a chicken BBQ at the community hall and the boys are hopeful to get their fill. It is also an exciting event because most nights are early ones, spent around the dinner table, then by the fire, fatigued bodies from working the land and the fresh air sending them to their beds. The boys all head out one night to help dig the fire pits for the BBQ chicken event. The girls stay home. Lucy hangs in the kitchen as Kristin rolls out her pastry, she is gorgeous- this fresh faced modern farm wife look is enviable. I dreamily imagine myself one day, living off the land, replicating her pastry skills. Her look is complete with a gorgeous rolling pin her mother gave her. I would definitely need to get one of those bad boys in my role as a newfangled farm gal. Quite possibly I should start farming and working land asap too; I don't think the perfectly cute rolling pin accessory a successful farmer makes. 

Kristin and I head out with her neighbour to have a look at the chicken coop the German boys are constructing and also to collect asparagus for the quiche.

A Stephanie Wilson inspired salad of grated beets, carrots, apples in a lime, honey and ginger dressing, topped with chopped nuts is underway. I chop and Kristin rolls. The boys are back and our little farm family gathers. Needless to say Dominic does not go in for seconds; the scoop he does take is noticeably heavier on the nut front than the veggies. He jokes whether both quiches are vegetarian- as the bacon that is non-vegi does not count, really, as a meat portion.

Woodville mesmerises me. Blossom in the twilight, breathtaking. Sweet fragrances drifting by and around. Skies, hell yes. They have those in abundance. The homestead is bathed in light, the sun sets and the landscape is still clear in the gentle after light. Kristin and Henry, what they are doing here. It is like a spiritual retreat, being in this nest. Sheltered by the valley. 

I head out to Wolfville to check out the town, a 20 minute drive away. There are some cool cafes and I sit and blog. Most students are away now, so things are a little quiet but this is just perfect. I leave the farmers back home preparing a plot for the asparagus they have to get in the ground. After a day of coffee and lovely local, organic snacking and veggie food at Oats, I drive to the homestead. I sit by the fire with the farm family. I need to stay longer. I could stay for A LOT longer. Especially for the shindig at the weekend (I would love to see the German boys attack the BBQ chicken and meet the people from around these Scotian Gold parts), but I can not afford to keep extending the time on the car and I really want to see PEI and Cape Breton…

I have one last day and do the hikes just up the way from the homestead. 

Whimsically immersed in the trees, and woodsy expanses that differ so greatly, I realise that I cover a hell of a lot of territory. 

I trek along each colour, more or less

I have a snack of an apple and some almond butter in my bag. Thank god for that, I am starving and stupidly set off on an empty stomach. I kind of get lost at one point. The markers have disappeared and the trail ambiguous, if even there. Admitting defeat, I decide to head down to the road, because I am pretty certain the direction of that. I see the farm selling Nova Scotian honey which is good- at least I recognise something and decide to run from there back to the car. It is a lot longer on foot, I have only driven this way before. I am relieved to get back and proceed to eat the biggest bowls of cereal I can. (Adam, I could rival your bowls that brimmed with those Weetos.)

Better than a trail of crumbs, relieved to have registered this
landmark...

I have to go find the sweet potato fries and go to the Look Off. They weather is great and I enjoy the little outing. 

View from the Lookoff

But most of all, I enjoy going back to the homestead. One last night with my farm family. We all sit in the living room. The German boys show us some German pop on youtube and also some rap, much to the hilarity of us all. Early night is had by all- I manage to get up to banners of sunrise. I never close my curtains, my window faces east and I swear I feel the beauty of the morning whispering to me. I run around the valley that is bathed in the radiance of a rose hued sunrise. There is an early morning frost- Kristin and her farmer pal had said this was forecast. The morning sun creates and alchemy of mist, pale and translucent, rising from the frosted ground and hovering amongst the plants. 

The view from my bedroom window when
I returned from the magical mists of the morning

Kristin and I have coffee together before she heads out to be trained for a job she has just landed. It is perfect for her, allowing summer months to be spent working the land and winter months working from home. I say good bye, I cannot thank her enough. She was quite happy for me to stay longer, expecting no money- her and Henry had discussed it. It feels like I am supposed to be here and you are no trouble (you proud, Mama Wolff?) and I have inspired them. Me? Inspired you?? You guys have inspired me!! I have a lovely hug with the German boys. Their visas run out soon and they will be back to Germany to study. Frank knows what he wants to do- this year of farm work has inspired and led him down a path that he is very clear and excited about. I am really happy for him. 

Henry and Lucy say good bye last, seeing me off down the drive. I see them head back onto the sun drenched land for a day of work. Henry is right. It is a perfect day for a drive. And the old road number 14 he told me to go on is just fabulous. The skies are more generous than one could hope, an assortment of clouds that tell stories and scenery to soak up. More fabulous though, my time in the nest of a little farm family; a latter-day (happiest of) homesteads in Annapolis Valley, Woodville. A homestead cloaked in the aura of both promise and possibility: pure Nova Scotian gold.

25~Love and Lobster in Lunenberg

New location for a spot of the old blogging… Viarail. Halifax to Sainte-Foy, to then catch a shuttle bus to Quebec City. I am in it for the long haul, recliner chair for a 20 hour journey across Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and into Quebec. Determined to get up to date within this epic leg of a journey. So throught the rain and mist that surrounds this train, I travel back in time, dissolve into memories...

Like a 

guardian Angel,

the Lighthouse stands,

Sending out hope into the night.

Like a faithful friend

Reaching out a hand

Bringing comfort, truth,

and light.

From my happy home in Yarmouth, I travelled back to my first love, Lunenberg. “Welcome home!’ Lorne calls as I get out the trusty beast that seemed to sail across Southern Nova Scotia this morning, my Dolly CD making the trip all the more lovely. He is weeding with a special little contraption (he says it is an addiction- the lawn looks perfect to me, so either he does a blooming good job or his addiction is OCD). He gives me a big hug and I have to say ‘Alicion B&B’ looks picture perfect. I note a few spruces in the short while I have been gone. New flowers, a sweet little patio area, paved to the side of the house, private and cosy with a table and chairs. There is a hive of activity in the living room and the spread looks fab, as do all the ladies! Wow, glad I picked up the flats; I have limited footwear options and converse/Uggs/flip flops/running trainers would just not do. Janet, Chrissy, Barb, Rick are all here, and some other Lunenbergians I did not meet the first time round. 

This wedding I have had the privilege of being invited to has quite a beautiful backstory. When I had left Lunenberg, I knew that Janet and Lorne were expecting her 80 year old mother to arrive the following week. Not alone. With her NEW BOYFRIEND. This was quite the talk at the BBQ amongst the girls. Chrissy, Barb and I both felt that there was hope for us yet. Janet’s mother Mary had fallen in love and was bringing her beau, Bernie, to meet Janet and Lorne. Naturally, the wouls saty for a week, a little respite in ‘Alicion’. When I am invited back to Lunenberg, I make the arrangements for the Saturday. Lorne then informs me that he and Janet are preparing for a wedding; Mary sprung it on her daughter at the airport- she had arrived not with a beau, but a fiancee. Lorne assures me that I they would love to have me there. It is a casual ceremony and the girls have never met Mary before so it is really a chance to support Janet and most importantly, celebrate love. If anyone could organise a wedding with 3 days notice and pull it off with grace and flair, it is Janet and the ‘Alicion’ setting is perfect. 

The groom joins the hustle and bustle in the living room. What a fire cracker! He is charming, funny and a Brit. He schmoozes with us ladies. Barb and I catch each others eye, laughing and a little shocked, mirroring each other with raised eyebrows. All us ladies receive a compliment. In this photo he is saying to me, “By golly, you have the sweetest looking lips.” 

When his bride to be joins us, he tells her, “Mary, there are a heck of a lot of beautiful ladies in this room. But you are the most beautiful of them all.” Barb and I look at each other, melting. 

This pair, both 80, look youthful and their love literally lights up the room. We all sit, Lorne takes Mary to Bernie and I am unsure as to whether there was a dry eye in the house. It is incredibly moving, beautiful, intimate, hopeful, pure, honest. A wonderful recipe of all these things, quite clearly, makes true love. With a little dash- well, actually- a huge dollop of passion. The ceremony ends with quite a kiss and Bernie makes it quite clear in a number of remarks that he fancies the pants off Mary (I do believe he told Barb, “She is gorgeous. And you know what? She is brown all over.”). Barb dedicates a song, we dance. Bernie grabbing the single gals and giving us a spin. We drink champagne and have a gorgeous cake. 

Rae-Ann and I arrange to go to the ‘Salt Shaker Deli’ for dinner. Lorne, Janet, Mary and Bernie will head out for a fancy meal later. Lorne and I race to get some lobster; he has read the blog and noted that my lobster linguine experience was held in high regard; he wants to show me the real thing. 

When I look at the pictures he takes, I have to message Mama Wolff. Mama, isn’t there a photo of me where I look exactly the same but I am 4? Sure enough she digs it out- uncanny, eh?

Mary and Bernie are exhausted and go for an afternoon kip. Janet says they sleep in till 10/11 in the morning. Some of the gang stay behind and we chat the afternoon away. Time is getting on and Bernie shuffles into the living room in his shorts and t-shirt, bed hair and looking a little crumpled, with his bright eyes a little wide, conveying a startled expression. We have been noisy- Barb presumes it to be her (she has got an amazing laugh and a very theatrical, expressive manner) but Bernie blames Janet. Already in the step fatherly role! 

Bernie joins us and tells us how he and Mary met. Mary had an arranged marriage to a much older man; she spent part of her life in the role of dutiful wife and loving mother. She has a disability that requires shoes to be made for her. Bernie was her cobbler. He always tried to make her blush, sneaking in a controversial comment or a slightly rude joke (Mary’s interjection to Bernie’s story). He always thought she was beautiful. Years went by and Mary’s husband had died. She bumped into Bernie and they had a cup of tea together. From there it has been quite the whirlwind. Bernie says, “I might be dead soon. Got to enjoy life while you can- we are not getting any younger.” He is so deadpan, I can not help but laugh. He winks at me. They are heading off to Europe for an organised trip on a bus in July. Janet later tells me that her mother is like a different person- rejuvenated, reenergised by the love she has found.

I am exhausted. After Rae-Ann and I have lots of lovely chats at my favourite little restaurant, I head straight to my ‘Dragonfly’ haven and collapse into my princess bed. I have breakfast with the other guests- two couples. One from Halifax who are having a weekend break away. She works in Truro for 911 call centre and the stresses of this can be intense. My only frame of reference os ‘The Call’ starring Halle Berry. She says that actually, there is some reality in this fictional story- the software, computers they use is identical, as is the training. She is unsure whether or not when she clocks off that she would go and investigate crimes. Well, it is Hollywood… Lorne and her partner have an interesting conversation about the state of the economy in Nova Scotia and the problems they see in the tourist industry. Lorne says that is extremely difficult for newcomers to set up camp here in the tourism industry, facing all sorts of adversity. Even from the locals. So it ain’t all the cinnamon and sunshine that I perceive it to be. Maybe if I attempted to move and set up something here it could take a while to assimilate. He is in web design and he agrees with Lorne, as they also compare how Prince Edward Island has a much more powerful advertising message in which to draw tourists.

The other couple from California are slightly cold. Considering they are from the warmer climate, Lorne and I are both a little taken a back , in particular, by the girl’s frosty and haughty attitude. I don’t know if Lorne puts something out in the Universe because I sit in my usual spot and the table is set for 5. I sit opposite the friendly couple from Halifax. Lorne brings the coffee through and says, “Oh dear. We have split the other couple up.” As he walks out, the three of us shoot awkward glances, thinking that the couple have argued and left or something along those lines. We then realise that he means they will not be able to sit together- so I move to the head of the table. The blonde, tanned couple arrive and I have to work hard to warm the girl up. She seems unimpressed by everything here. It is a business trip. She wasn’t flying all that way in a crappy little plane to just fly straight back so she took some extra days here. She does not really have anything positive to say. Nova Scotia does not love her and it starts to cloud over. I try not to let her kill my buzz. The couple that stay the next night and I share breakfast with, make up for the Californian couple. They look California. Fresh and full of smiles and adventure. I immediately warm to Ruslyn and her husband Brad- they look like they could be out of a commercial. They love yoga, biking and sailing. Ruslyn has a beautiful necklace and we share the stories behind our jewellery. She tells one gorgeous story that sticks with me. Her son was woking on a sailboat across some exotic workers. He and the others worked in shifts. One night they were all up- a pod of dolphins were swimming on the perimeter of their boat, under the canopy of stars and moonlight, with water which was phosphorescent. She has that love that only a mother has, moved still be her son's experience and his appreciation of it. She and Brad head off for a bike and a hike. Brad is quite the dreamboat but I reckon they both have a perfect match. We namaste each other but as I am chatting to Janet she rushes back in to give me a big hug. More than made up for the miserably Californians!!

A Lorne breakfast special shared with Ruslyn
and Brad

I go to do the same hike up at Gaff point but the weather is drizzly and it does not have the same effect of complete euphoria as the first trek but it is enjoyable all the same. I borrow Lorne’s bike and hit my coffee spot. It is incredible how different Lunenberg is after a week and a half. There is more people traffic and a trickle of tourists as the brink of the season is in motion. I liked it when it was all mine. I like it, love it still. It makes it seem even more special that I had it to myself those first days. Before I know it, I realise I am due back at ‘Alicion’. The gang are congregating for lobster. What fun and delish…

At bed time, I catch Mary at her bedroom door and she conspiratorially shares with me how happy she is. Mary did not expect to find love again, but she hoped to. She did not feel like being on her own and wanted a partner to enjoy life with. There is always a chance and a hope she tells me. Bernie shuffles by and we give each other a little smile, hug good night and I head up. 

The next day, I say good bye to the Lunenberg crew. Janet and I have a private moment where she shares her thoughts on yesterdays ceremony. It was so magical, I say. 

She agrees. You know, she says, everyone in that room is going through something. They are facing challenges in their lives. Being part of that moment in time was special for everyone there, it symbolised and embodied hope. We all need a bit of that. We all need to believe in lightness, love and happiness. We both well up as we discuss it and then the happy couple are there to say good bye too. I will see Bernie and Mary for a dinner in Victoria, B.C. Lorne and Janet say I can come back anytime. I pop to see Barb at the library where she is subbing. We have a lovely chat. I can just see her doing her story time for the kids. 

The workshops and events she runs sound so fun that if it was not totally in appropriate, I would sign up. Chrissy and I meet for a coffee. ‘One Stop Coffee Shop’ is also her favourite. She is such a smart, knowledgeable woman on so many fronts. I would love to stay and talk life with her. 

Chrissy here with a great hat

She sends me with instructions so that I will have a scenic drive to Wolfville. Jotting down somewhere to snaffle sweet potato fries, a place for a great view and a run down on must see spots on PEI. I leave and it is misty and a little grey. I watch the seagulls flock over the harbour. LM told me that they say seagulls are the souls of sailors lost at sea. I drive. I don’t need to look back. The love from the people here is like a beacon, a lighthouse in the distance, with the power to shine, luminate hearts… no matter how far away they are.

“Black met black on the distant horizon, the stars alone distinguishing sky from lake. On the sand below, Silver Beach glittered at the water's edge while on the north side of the river the lighthouse's beacon signaled safe harbor.” 

~ Erin Farwell, Shadowlands

...I will be your lighthouse, if you will be my sea...

24~Canada, I Could Drink a Case of You

I knew when I arrived Lakeside, Yarmouth, that life was good. I felt this part of the trip would be special but it was more than that. My ipod surprises me as I run at Cape Forchu lighthouse, 'The

Beacon to Canada'. I think it has been stuck on some loop and I may have pressed something because suddenly every song is new once more. It reminds me of Mama Wolff but most of all the words fill me with light and love, and makes me think of Canada.  'A Case of You' by Joni Mitchell starts and I am running with tears streaming down my face:

I drew a map of Canada

Oh, Canada

With your face sketched on it twice

Oh you're in my blood like holy wine

You taste so bitter and so sweet

                             Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling

                                   And I would still be on my feet

                                   Oh, I would still be on my feet...'

~Joni Mitchell

I find some spare moments in which I feel I can reflect and write. This moment is in Pleasant Bay, Cape Breton. From my last cafe spot in Wolfville, I am now writing in the mid-afternoon sunshine, overlooking the bay. Mountains blanketed in trees enclave this small serene spot and I may have the fortune of spotting a minka whale in the bay as I look up from my writing.

As epic and full as some stories have to be, I recognise I may never share all I want to. So this is a humble ode to Yarmouth, where 4 days quickly turned into 5, and Lakeside living with Linda-Marie was lovelier than I could have hoped.

Lakeside living is pretty good for the soul, that is probably pretty clear. I love the view from my bed:

Tranquil waters and skies so vast that the clouds have a never ending playground to roam, evolve and change their games was right up my street. Turns out LM is a fan of the skies too. We chased a couple sunsets in our pajamas, hopping in the car and heading out in the hopes of catching the last rays and the cloud shows over the Southern bays of Novia Scotia. 

Kinda felt Thelma and Louise-esque. Great to have a partner in crime that got the same kicks out of such particular habits: cloud appreciation, endless sky wonder and sunset gazing. 

Having this time with LM was special for a number of reasons. She has a daughter a little younger than me, Chelsea. She lives in London and of course LM misses her. I remind LM of Chelsea (physically and in spirit too) and a number of people in Yarmouth town ask LM if Chelsea is home- they see me out and about and running up near the lighthouse. I am pretty sure any guests at Lind-Marie's get the 5 star service but I have a sneaky suspicion that I receive extra special treatment. I feel like a kid but also like I have made a new best friend, we are so alike.

I look 8??

No make up and freckly- maybe more youthful because of that!

I receive that sweet edge of motherly care. I have been told before that my general disposition is quite sunny and I am a good host. Well friends, I ain't a patch on Linda-Marie. Move over, Pollyanna! This lady could make your positive outlook seem a little jaded and negative. She could outwit, annihilate in fact, Pollyanna at the grateful game any day. Rays of sunshine literally pour from her. She grabs my washing, chirping, 'It's easy, honey!' Lots of things are 'fun' and I agree- nice stamps, a new sweater and 'Bulk Barn' (apparently it has more than 4,000 products, they are all in tubs so you can acquire as much or as little as you like- I LOVE it and you can get all sorts of nut butters and different flakes- perfect for a porridge maker on the go). After LM prepares an amazing breakfast of oatmeal pancakes with maple syrup (which has been infused with cinnamon, star anise and vanilla), she sets to fetching my coffee and burns her hand. I feel awful. We run it under cold water and then we wrap ice around it, hotfooting it to the pharmacy for Advil amidst the list of things we wanted to do that day. We use a scarf to help to hold the bag of ice in place and I am apologising profusely. LM is more concerned that I am concerned; really, she reasons, what a decorative hand bracelet she now has because I have fashioned the scarfit so well. I insist on buying the Advil and run into the bakery to pick up the special Novia Scotian bread she has ordered for me to try and buy that too. She is generous in more ways than one. I feel utterly spoilt. Please LM, let me!

We  make coconut and kale cookies on our last day and we deliver little parcels to the friends I have made:

Linda-Marie takes me everywhere and I learn so much about the local area. I am convincing her to blog about Nova Scotia. She has such appreciation for the landscape and the world around her- we are perfect companions, we swim in the wonders of nature, soaking up every bit we can. We head out to lots of different secret spots she knows. The weather is heavenly, sunshine and unusual mists. LM says Nova Scotia loves me and that is why the weather is playing ball.

Just like being with pals, Lyd and Eve, we write lists of conversations that we must come back to and lists of events and plans to ensure we fit it all in. I would have never met half the amazing people, been privy to inside information on Yarmouth, the local goings on or experienced some of the wondrous spots in the area without my guide and pal. It is striking how many houses there are that are completely different in style:

But I reckon Linda-Marie has the best spot, with a priceless view:

LM had debated leaving Novia Scotia, she is originally from the States and is accustomed to city life. But Nova Scotia for the tranquility, trust and open spaces to bring up Chelsea was a draw. LM did leave at one point when her and her husband were separated; a spell living the high life in California with a rekindled love. She tells me she remembers that time as though it were yesterday, it as crisp and sharp as the long shadows that are being cast by the trees in the evening sunlight, before us on the road as we drive. As I travel this province, I realise there is a magnetism. It draws people in, back, it keeps people here. Communities that are long standing, generations of folk and people fresh and new to Nova Scotia. LM throws in a comment about a doctor living in a certain house we are admiring, explaining it was a choice between New Zealand and here. I think this is quite startling as I understand NZ to be incredibly desirable, but as much as my ears prick up at this nugget of info, I also feel an affirmation- it is as wonderful as I think, I am not in a bubbly haze of travelling euphoria, donning rose tinted glasses. A chap I meet at Lorne and Janet's says he and his wife cannot get their children to come and visit this side of Canada. They were debating upping sticks again and heading to the West Coast, nearer to their children and grandkids who are in British Columbia. But, they love it here. He said he read a book called 'Nextville' and it helped to form the decision to continue to carve their life out in Lunenberg. LM didn't read this book, but she listened to a clear message from her heart. The turbulent pro and con process filling her mind, ceased. She tells me she woke up very, very early one morning and her heart said, 'I want to be here, more than I need to be there.' She loves the space. The colours all around. The people. The friends she has. So the city girl in her- the one that like to get all dressed up and enjoy the theatre, intellectual aspects and job opportunities that a larger city tends to provide- finds happiness here (and she has been part of incredibly creative enterprises in and around Yarmouth; there is an array of art and creative talent populating this province- more about that later). Rae-Ann in Lunenberg is originally from Antigonish, in the North of Nova Scotia. She tells me that most of her friends would come back to Novia Scotia in a heartbeat but the economy is bad and the job prospects few; she is thrilled to have returned, bagging a midwifery job in the South Shore and basing herself in Lunerberg.

LM's daughter would find it hard to get a job that would lie in the areas that she has expertise, and I am unsure if she is interested in returning to reside anytime soon.Without her daughter for most of the year (although Chels loves to come home and LM loves England), she has a lovely dog Nika.

They are great companions here in this Lakeside retreat; taking their favourite daily walks, cosying by the fire and Nika even gets our leftover pancake and delicious tidbits! This is true love.

LM has a wonderful network of buddies, is so enriched by the natural world around her. Having Nika and surrounding open spaces means she has a routine that I am really into. Early get up (although I must admit I have not been as early as when I was a working girl) LM is 5:30 and I am more like 7. She heads to the Y on Main Street for a swim and has a fresh smoothie on return. I head out to the Lighthouse for a run and this becomes my little routine. Although one morning I join her at the Y, hoping to do a class called 'All Over Fit' with Barb. But Barb is unfortunately a no-show ('a rough morning at home' I am informed by another hopeful participant that comes and finds me in the gym); I pump some iron (well, 3lb weights!) and pull some Tracey moves with a local beefcake and two ladies gossiping on the treadmill. Everyone knows everyone. I am a stranger in this gym but welcome all the same.

I abstain from the Y and decide appreciating the surroundings is far superior, even though I enjoyed the experience. I run at the lighthouse (a 20 minute drive from LM's) and a curious dog finds me stretching behind a rock on the deserted beach. His owner and I chat for 20 minutes. He knows Linda and her dog, of course he does. When I speak to the Aussie fellow who runs the 'Red

Shed', a new harbourside take out eatery (hello, fish tacos), I relay the story and he knows the dude too. LM had previously told me that this 'Red Shed' guy is the husband of her vet and they decided to settle here. A foodie type venture like this has always been his dream (and again, Australia, such a great place to live and this guy resides here). Yep, everyone knows everyone here, he says knowingly. I stick out apparently. He says I look too well dressed and stylish for the area. It is this coat, must be. Otherwise I am quite dishevelled day to day. This coat of many colours that my mama gave to me. Yup, the 2 CD's I purchased for $5 in Walmart, Dolly Parton and Stevie Wonder, ring true with many songs. Parallels with my rain jacket and her 'Coat of Many Colours' lyrics. Mama Wolff may not have hand-stitched this bad boy with rags as Dolly's mama had for her- sewing is not her bag (but it was bought with the intention of protecting me from the elements, just like Dolly's coat story). She will always bring up the time she stitched all 10 ladybird costumes for my 3rd grade school play. I volunteered her, much to her dismay, but they were perfectly crafted costumes. Just like when I was up to my elbows in baking and dealing with a very raw broken heart, she stepped in to lend a hand and iced Beautiful Jess's wedding cakes; she may pretend to lack baking and crafting skill but I can never get my frosting to replicate the dreamy mounds and perfectly peaked shapes she cultivated on the cakes. The cakes went down a storm and the icing much admired. Instead of being teased like Dolly for my coat, I have had compliments left right and centre, from all corners of the world: women in the High Street in Amsterdam; a homeless man in Bristol- I thought he was asking me for money but he was actually saying he liked my coat; girls in the yoga studio in New York; ladies in the health food store in Yarmouth; the fishermen in Lunenberg and the list goes on! 

Mind you, the first day I was here, I had been for a run and was unsure if LM had coffee (silly thought- although she is not a partaker in the tipple, she of course has the loveliest of fresh beans and a grinder so I can cafetiere my morning coffee), I head to Tim Horton's to grab a take out. There is a strip of places like this (Wal-Mart, McDonald's etc) and I park and head towards the entrance. A guy is kind of loitering and seems to be observing me. I have not got my magic coat on so the last thing I expect is a compliment. I look foul and sweaty, I am quite sure. He opens the door for me. I thank him and get in the queue. I am surprised how many people are hanging out but they just love their Tim Horton's here. The door opener is behind me and I faff with my coffee and begin to head out, aware that he again is following my movements. He gets the door for me. Surely they do not employ someone to open doors at this fast food donut chain. I look at him. "Thank you, how very gentlemanly!" I say when I realise he is doing this in a courteous fashion. "Well, you sure are a mighty fair lady," he says, tipping his baseball cap and giving me a smile that reveals very few teeth. Wow. I have never been called a 'fair lady' before. I am surprised that he finds me so in my present state too. I laugh, hopefully graciously, thank him and hurry to the car. He heads off on foot down the highway. A redneck type with impeccable manners- the boys back home could learn a lesson or two. I did not even need the magic coat to draw attention to myself, he'd clocked me in the car park in sweats. Adam Wolff, will you please try this line on the ladies and see what happens? For a fair test though, you need to black out some teeth.

Everyone makes you feel special in this place and wants to hear about your plans and share stories. We have dinner with Les. He is helping LM with some gardening and has set up some allotments down in Yarmouth town. He loves my travelling plan and it spurs a trip down memory lane for Les. He had an epic drive trek across the states, undertaken in teen spirit. Over 50 years ago.  It sounds like a quite the trip- no SatNav and no sleep for days.

We have a day of shopping. I am introduced to Frenchy's, great bargain bin hunting for second hand items (the history of this store can be read in this article: Frenchy's Phenomenon), and find myself with 3 new items that if mixed make 6 new outfits (I have to be stringent, carrying crap is not fun and neither is sending expensive parcels home). Moy, I know would have a field day here and it is a reason for her to come to Canada, aside from all the other amazing attractions it has to offer.

We peruse our purchases

This is also what is great about being with LM. All these snippets of information, background on people, who built houses, who lives there and the history of different areas, buildings, beaches, coves, shops- she is a guru of local knowledge. Exciting Yarmouth news, that I learn from everyone I speak to, is the cruise ship which has just set sail on its maiden voyage: 'The majority of passengers on this worldly vessel, called the Nova Star, are expected to come from New England- namely Boston, where the ship was christened on Monday- but the biggest impact will be in the Canadian province of Nova Scotia, which took a serious hit when ferry service from Maine was halted nearly five years ago.' (read more: Article- Nova Star) 

I run on the vacant beach near the lighthouse and I see a man on his bike with a camera. Cheeky bugger. Is it that unusual to see a runner here? I kind of nod and realise he is not looking at me but beyond me. I turn my head and there she is. So close, gliding smoothly and slowly by the bay, the cruise ship. Aha. What a great view, with the morning sun glinting through the broken clouds. A special moment that I could not have timed better had I tried- the previous morning I had driven back to the lighthouse in hope of seeing her leave, but it was quite foggy. But this morning I was up so early because Nika had woken me up, wanting to go out. This 5:00 Nika alarm was actually wonderful- the crescent moon hanging like a decoration above the lake, a bright star (planet, maybe Venus?) a silent companion for the moon. 

Then, from my bed with a hot drink I watched the oranges breaking through the navy nighttime blues. It was a sight I would readily rise to see at any hour. 

And of course this earlier run then resulted in the spectacular Nova Star vision, this close up awesome shot, a run alongside this majestic ship. Yarmouth is buzzing and hopeful, I see why and I feel hope for Yarmouth too. It reminds me of Hull in many ways.

I continue to note and collect all the typically Nova Scotian things that I have to ask LM about. I love the school buses that are parked in the driveways of the houses where the drivers reside. I love the small little huts built at the end of the gardens, shelters for the children to wait for the bus in the winter months. I wonder if your parents didn't build you one, do they buddy up? Or what if yours was not as fancy as the little girl's shelter down the road?

A child disembarks the school bus and runs down the lawn- so
sweet

The small ponds in the gardens of some houses are, of course, perfect for ice skating in the winter. Rae-Ann in Lunenberg tells me her dad used to flood the garden come winter, so they had their own ice skating rink in their front yard. Cool.

I feel like I have made so many friends here. We go to Yoga in the Barn. Kerry grounds me with her teachings from India, it soothes my body which misses my daily yoga. Kabir, her partner from India, leads us through our savasana, playing an Indian instrument- the melody trails through the final meditation and into the sun set. Great fortune to happen upon this and meet women and men from around that are part of a very intimate and unique yoga community that Kerry has established. (There is other yoga around- I find it everywhere and I mean everywhere.) Two women I speak with went to India last January on a special trek/retreat that Kerry guides people on.

Kabir is a guest chef at the 'Shanty Cafe' and the veggie burgers and samosas are reputedly awesome. 

I go and the veggie burger has sold out, but I get a chickpea salad and it is so good, I go back twice more. I return to the 'Red Shed' and also hit my favourite cafe on Main Street: 'The Old Bakery Shop'. I get a little writing done but it is hard because I know so many people now, so I stop and talk to everyone. I even make friends in the cafe. They are regulars here and I arrange to meet them on my last day because Cliff wants to help me with my route as I have no set plans and want to see it all. He comes armed with a map and lots of advice. I hear him say, "Here she is!" to his wife as I rush in- LM and I are on list item 5 and this is a 30 minute interlude between plans, she will come and collect me after she is done getting some groceries. We look at the map and they help me shape my plan. LM arrives and it is hard to tear myself away. Cliff says he has something for me. He gives me 2 signed photographs. Aerial shots of the Nova Star's maiden voyage- a memento. This is what we first spoke about in the cafe a few days back- he is into aerial photography and his buddy took him out to capture the shots. Not only does he provide me with time and advice, he gives me his phone number because he would hate anything to happen to me, he says to Linda-Marie. I could almost cry, I am so touched.

We hit the post office and have chats with Shane, he helps to make Adam's birthday package look great- with fun Canadian stamps. LM was right to persist- I like to see that even my Pollyanna can get irritated when Shane's colleague makes it a little awkward for us to get the stamps but low and behold, Adam has a very fun looking parcel to arrive for his 30th.

Next, we head off to drop things off at home and take the dog to the beach. We go to an Art Gallery opening. We collect Nancy (a wonderful Acadian pal of LM's); I drop LM off before her post gallery opening so she does not miss 'Downtown Abbey' and Nancy invites me in to her home and offers to come with me in the search of a pair of cheap flat shoes for the wedding I am going to tomorrow- so kind ). I love it-the building and being part of the whole event. We see some great art. We are here for the opening of an exhibition of Yarmouth artist, Nelson Surrette: 

Some local high school and community arts colleges have an exhibition space:

This province is rich in such a tapestry of artists and the space is lovely. I am drawn to the art of Marie Webb, entitled 'Magic in her Hands'. She is a young woman with down syndrome and when asked about how she creates such pieces, she said that she had magic in her hands. 

During the speeches, I realise just what a happening moment in Yarmouth this is; the ship promises more activity, the unveiling of new art works (a living relative is also here to say a few words about the art- brilliant), the celebration of Maud Lewis and other local and provincial talents. Similar to the toads back in Hull, the houses in honour of the teeny home that Maud lived in, are dotted around Yarmouth:

The curator from the museum in Halifax speaks about putting Yarmouth on the map and how it should be duly recognised for the wonderful things it has to offer. In his speech I learn another film is in the process of being shot here, quite something. I may have failed to mention that while in Lunenberg, there was a film shoot happening- a cast and crew were shooting 'The Book of Negroes' there. I did not realise Cuba Gooding Jr was in this film! 'Alicion B&B' were asked if they could hire out the whole place for a cast member and entourage but were already committed. Nova Scotia has been used for many films, I am told by Chrissy. Chrissy had actors from a series called 'The Haven' staying at her B&B during filming sessions. I need to look into that. I watch 'The Scarlet Letter' purely because it was filmed in some of the places that I have been but Demi Moore makes it hard going. LM had pointed out the hotel where Demi stayed while on location here. It has shut down and now looks shabby. It once was not and LM hopes this will change with the restoration of the Nova Star. 

The next morning is my last. There is a buzz around town; the ship has docked. LM and I will hit the market as the Nova Star lands- her friend is arriving from New England on the ship! She waits for her and I go for one last coffee at my favourite cafe. The cafe has a little more traffic; people with maps, fresh off the boat! Great and they are loving the muffins that are arriving fresh from the baker downstairs and telling the waitress how amazing the coffee is. It is very true- the coffee is made from green beans that they roast on the premises and the muffins are unreal (chunks of apple and cinnamon, mango and coconut are some personally sampled). I walk down Main Street and head to the market. A band, locals and visitors, great provincial produce and a bustling, friendly atmosphere make it a complete winner; a perfect final Yarmouth note on which to leave.

Wow. I have hugs from the people I met, people recognise me from the art gallery and welcome me back any time, wishing me safe travels. I chat to so many great people with great stories that they want to share, particularly of travel. We bump into Kerry and other friends and all sit together for an impromptu chat and coffee.

LM says good bye and we both shed a tear. I go and see Kabir for a take out chickpea salad and jump in the car. I am heading back to Lunenberg. I have been invited back, a generous offer to stay in the 'Dragonfly Room' and join in with a wedding celebration. Amazing. I have fun filling a basket (LM thoughtfully donated to me) with local goodies to take back to lovely Lunenberg.

So as I tap away now, almost two weeks have gone by. It is lovely to write and I realise it has become epic as I let the memories wash over me. I have gone ipod less for a while so I find the song and listen to it. A new spot on the Canadian map sketched on my heart; the endless ocean with gentle ripples in the evening breeze, ever changing current lines and lobster traps bob making me wonder if I am seeing seals. I watch for the footprint of the minka in the ocean of Pleasant Bay. Such a remarkable blue, a striking blue like no other ocean I have seen. This blanket of colour, this beautiful blue in the low setting sun is bejewelled, twinkling like millions of precious gems spreading far and wide. You never know in this magical place...I may just glimpse that elusive whale skim the sapphire surface. Oh Canada,

'...I could drink a case of you, darling

   And still I'd be on my feet

   I would still be on my feet.'

~Joni Mitchell

Signing out from Pleasant Bay, Cape Breton.

Namaste ;-)