It's All About Maintenance

A colleaugue once told me that after turning 50, it was all about maintenance. After 70, it seems to me, it is all about repairs. The same is true about homes.

We love our home. But it is an old one. Perhaps that’s all the more reason to love it. But it means, like ourselves, as we age there is always something that needs fixing. 

The original structure of c. 1844 was fairly simple. But in the late 1800s or very early 1900s, frills were added. These consisted of ornate trim, bay windows and a turret. When one adds onto an existing structure, it may enhance it visually, but it tends to compromise it structurally. So, the relatively simple repairs we had contemplated, have uncovered more complex issues. And the anticipated cost of the work has mounted. 

However, wherever we have lived, we have considered ourselves stewards of our properties. We are there not only to enjoy the place, but also as caretakers of it. The house has stood here for more than 180 years. We would like it to stand proudly here for many more years, and long after we have shuffled off our mortal coils. 

Thankfully, we have a very capable, responsible and engaged contractor to undertake the work. It may mean wieners and beans instead of steak for dinner, but we shall dine in the comfort of a lovely home!

Springing Into Action

The daffodils have been slow to bloom this year and so has our forsythia, but their vibrant yellows are now gracing our garden. But the real sign of spring for me has been sighting the first seal of the year off our shore. And that was yesterday. I love it when they breech, arching their shiny backs before disappearing.

Of course, we’ve had the loons, seven of them, now starting to show their summer coats, but they have already taken off to their summer nesting grounds. It leaves us with the ducks, and the cormorants as well as the ubiquitous and graceful gulls.

Another sign of spring is when the first boat arrives for repairs at the dry dock across the river. There have now been two boats come to settle in the cradle on land; one is still there. And yesterday we witnessed a lobster boat dropping numerus cages in the river in front of us. We had never seen this before. And oddly they were the old wooden cages, rather than the newer metal ones.

There are so many signs of spring, but I have yet to hear the peepers on North Street. And this seems very late to me. Perhaps one forgets from year to year. And then, of course, each year is slightly different. And as a sign at the Home Hardware states: “Welcome to Winter, Spring, Winter, Spring.” Indeed, it has been a very on again and off again season.

But spring is definitely in the air.

Autumn Leaves Must Fall

The tourists like the autumn leaves lingered but have now gone to wherever they were from. And now the fairweather residents have left us too. The hale and the hearty remain. The Farmers and Traders Market has moved indoors. The Market Square is empty. Some shops and restaurants have closed, others have reduced their hours. It is late November. The routine of daily walks is tempered by the rain , which, recently, seems endless. Yet there is a quiet beauty about it all. It is time for those of us who no longer have paid employment to put up our feet by the fire, to read, to write, to prepare meals for friends, and just maybe to have an afternoon nap.

Spring Awakening in a Small Town

Like many small towns in Nova Scotia, Annapolis Royal and Granville Ferry fall asleep in the winter. Perhaps not asleep. Perhaps one might better describe it as a comfortable drowsiness.

Many residents disappear to warmer climates for a few months. Many businesses close. 

But now, like the buds on the trees, the locality on both sides of the Annapolis River is literally springing to life. Shops are re-opening, restaurants too. People are out and about. Tourists are starting to arrive, with licence plates from other provinces of Canada and from several states of the USA being apparent. One can hear foreign accents too. 

Nevertheless, for those of us who have stayed during the long winter months, we still found a community and a vitality. It was just a different one, a quieter one; one might even say a gentler one. 

White Washed

 

This morning, from our vantage point in Granville Ferry, Annapolis Royal had been swallowed in a cloud of thick fog. But when I went across the river, the town was bathed in thick frost and glistening sunshine. 

The cool air was invigorating. A walk in the fort grounds was magical. It was early. 

But an hour later, when I had returned, the frost had disappeared, as had the fog. The fortress grounds danced in sunlight reflected off the wet trees, bushes and lawns.

There was a warmth and freshness in the air, even though it was still autumn crisp.

The Waves of Time

After ten wonderful weeks at our off-grid cabin in Ontario, we always look forward to being home again in Nova Scotia. And since we arrived back in late August, we have been delighted by the glorious autumn weather.

And we got home in time to pick the late blueberries and our first crop of apples from our own trees, planted just a year ago. Home in time to get the last of the pickling cucumbers for a batch of nine-day pickles. There has been less canning undertaken. The tomato crop has not been abundant due to a wet summer here.

We have had more time to sit on our lower deck and watch the activity on the water. And, more than ever before, the herons have entertained us. Indeed, we had the holy trinity of them on our beach recently.

Warm dry days have allowed us to leisurely put our garden to bed, with pruning, weeding, manuring and mulching now done. Next will be the leaves which are still clinging to the trees, battered by a recent hurricane and yet to come into colour, if indeed they will.

A week of heavy morning fog, has given way to bright clear mornings. The tides have been unusually high, causing problems for some low-lying neighbours, and also unusually low, causing problems for some boaters.

Today the sun glistens off the water with higher than normal waves from a south easterly breeze.

A Gullible Moment

We have had many spellbinding and some hilarious moments watching wild life, - seals, dolphin, eagles, hawks, and more from our home. But one moment will be sketched indelibly into my memory. 

It was sunny, but cool, yesterday, too cool to sit comfortably on the deck. We'd done our gardening and were sitting in our back room with friends for a late afternoon cocktail. 

In an instant, I noticed a seagull land cautiously on the railing outside our western window. This was a very rare occurrence, and never had I seen one in this location. 

It was a moment one wishes the camera had been ready. But it wasn't, so I have sketched it here.

We had made Coronation sandwiches for the celebrations this weekend: white sandwich loaf with the crusts carefully cut off before the delicious egg salad and salmon salad had been slathered onto the crustless bread slices. These crusts I had bagged, thinking perhaps the gulls would appreciate them. But for some reason, the gulls were scarce and those which did come by did not seem at all interested in these bland morcels. 

Nevertheless, I kept the bag on the ready in our back room, just in case. But I did not think it appropriate to leave them dangling from the back of the rocker by the door there when guests were coming. So, I placed the bag on a table outside on the deck by that railing to the west.

Shortly after the initial sighting of the gull out the west window, I gasped. The table had been obscured from my vision by the wall. I saw, out the southern window, the majestic but cheeky bird fly off gracefully with the bag carefully dangling from its handles in its beak. 

I am sure it winked at me.