Three Weeks In

Three weeks in! Our new house has been quickly settled, with furniture placed and looking like it has always belonged. However, shortly it will become unsettled again by reason of the installation of new windows and a spanking new kitchen. Of course the windows, although new, will replicate the old ones. The kitchen on the other hand will be quite contemporary, unlike the rest of the house, or at least the original part of this lovely 1844 sea captain’s home.

In the meantime, three dreadful toilets were quickly replaced with new, more efficient and age-friendly ones. The old ones were low, wobbly and somewhat stained - much like ourselves. The deck, which had been treated with a now peeling and uneven stain, is being power washed and will soon be coated with a clear protector. The trees encroaching on the house have been pruned back – by yours truly – with the aid of a rented long-arm chain saw, and a step-ladder lovingly secure by the arm of an attentive John. Apart from one limb that fell onto my head, on my head, on my head - head - head..., all went well. Many trips to the dump have cleared the basement of the multitude of broken down moving boxes and the mounds of bagged packing paper, not to mention the considerable debris left for us by the former owners.

The precarious and shifting “boat house” at the water’s edge has been secured on new foundation blocks and is about to be lined by a wonderful neighbouring contractor with wide plank boards on the inside, in readiness for our private Bishop and Barrister Seaside Pub. The name may be more fittingly altered to “The Boatslip and Mariner Seaside Pub”. A whisky or two will no doubt settle on the appropriate moniker. 

A variety of flowering shrubs has been implanted into the lawn in the hope of some semblance of a future artistic display.  And John has cleaned the dirt and mould off the front walkway and undertaken the arduous task of polishing the long neglected brass front door fixtures with a variety of both old-fashioned and new concoctions. There is some rotten wood to replace, but then the house is 174 years old.

A number of neighbours have brought us fresh eggs, asparagus and rhubarb along with welcoming words and helpful hints, and some not so helpful ones, for life in this part of Nova Scotia. The new chapter has begun.

The Wicked Web Unfolds

To steal a line from Sir Walter Scott: “Oh what a wicked web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” For six months almost to the day, I have been weaving a deception. Some would call it a lie, which admittedly has been fabricated, refabricated and embellished upon periodically, until yesterday. Yesterday the truth was released like a dove from a gilded cage.

It all began when I had “embarrassed” my partner into a decision to sell our beloved home in Ontario and to move to Nova Scotia. Those are his words. But the decision was one I very much wanted and he freely and excitedly made upon realizing that despite our ages, life was far from over for us.

We have visited Nova Scotia for many years now, usually in the autumn. The lure of the sea has infiltrated our souls. My brother, Tim, his wife, Fabienne, and three adult children all have settled here. Over time, they have witnesses our enthusiasm for the place and its people. Often they have spoken to us, perhaps in jest, about moving here. We have assured them, it was not an option.

So, when the decision was made, we kept it to ourselves. It was far from a “done deal”. We did not want to dangle a carrot before them only to have it stolen away by a hungry rodent.

Yesterday we were to meet my Nova Scotia family at the Annapolis Royal market. They knew only that we had flown down for a very short visit on the occasion of a fabricated excuse – the 50^th wedding anniversary of friends. We had told them we were staying in a guest house nearby, at the generous invitation of the absent owners, and they were invited back for lunch after the market.

Keeping a secret is very difficult. It is all the more difficult over a six month period. Sometimes one needs a helper to advance the ruse. So, I had engaged and tormented my niece Nicola as keeper of the secret. That is a much longer story. Let us just say that Nicola kept us apprised of comings and goings of family in the vicinity of our new home. She emailed to let us know that on a certain day her sister would be passing by en route to a hospital to have a cast removed from her wrist. We did not worry. We were housebound all day unpacking. However, that evening we were tired and hungry. Our kitchen was not yet set up. So, we went to the local pub for supper. Most certainly Eileen would be long gone.

Not so. Eileen and a friend had decided to visit the historic town and to stay for supper at the pub. They were positioned facing the door. A bewildered Eileen saw two men walk in who looked very much like her favourite uncles… No… Yeeees! And so we sat for supper with the two smiling, laughing, delighted young women and purchased their secrecy by buying them dinner! We did take them back to show them our still empty new home.

On the appointed day of reckoning, we drove to our new home ahead of the family. When they arrived in our drive and got out of their car, they were in wonder at the view and of the quaintness of the house where we were certainly most fortunate to be staying. “I want to stay here too”, annouced Fabienne. They entered the front door and stood in the hall. My brother’s wife announced how lovely the two main rooms at the front were: “like a museum”. Eileen stood quietly by, smiling knowingly, but keeping her end of the bargain.

Tim walked into the living room and noticed an antique secretary desk, “just like the one mum used to have”. He turned slightly and noticed an antique Wellington chest: “mum had one of those too!” The circle continued: - “and that table, I have never seen another one like it!” – he turned some more – the grandfather clock to the right of the fireplace caught his attention: “the clock … what’s going on?” he said in a puzzled, muddled sort of way.

“We live here”, we said. “We bought the place”. Fabienne chipped in: “Bought what?” “The house”, we replied. Tim's eyes welled in tears. “You mean it’s all been lies – you aren’t living at a friend’s home in Parry Sound?” That car in the drive isn’t rented?” “No, we’ve been here a week now… We live here!”

And so the tale unfolded.

Settling In

A week in and, although we feel our ages and more, we have now moved into our new home in Nova Scotia.  The drive from our former home in Warkworth was taken at an easy pace over four days. We arrived in Digby on the day of closing and met with our lawyer there for the first time. He was a delight.

The house in Granville Ferry, which was extremely dirty at the date of closing, has been thoroughly cleaned by us over two elbow breaking days before the moving van arrived.

The basement is piled with broken down boxes and bags of packing paper ready for the gradual disposal through this province’s extremely complicated waste management system. There are clear bags, blue bags, dark bags and green bins. One needs a PhD in such things to understand what goes where; it can be very frustrating. But all of that is but nothing in light of the beauty of our setting and the welcoming we have already received here.

All but the kitchen is set up. The house is bigger than we remember and our furniture suits it perfectly. The view from our back deck and large rear rooms is stunning. Already we have been treated almost daily to seals frolicking off our shore. The water is mesmerizing and ever changing with the variance of light and the ebbing and flowing of the daily tides.

Perhaps what is most gratifying for us is the ease of our transition. This has been made possible by the numerous service providers we have had to deal with. First the movers themselves were professional, friendly and enjoyable to be around at both ends of the move. The day the Van arrived with our worldly goods, including my Mini Cooper, our new life began to fall comfortably into place. As we live on the “Blind Crest” of a hill on a narrow road, John had to spend the move-in day directing traffic for eight and one half hours. It sounds gruesome, but he thoroughly enjoyed it and in the process he got to meet much of our neighbourhood coming and going. I directed the movers inside the house, occasionally spelling off John from his duties.

As John was waving on traffic the post woman, whom we had met the day before at the Post Office, drove by and handed him out a package. It was our modem for our internet service. Coincidentally, the phone company had sent out a service person to our house. Although our phone had been hooked up a couple of days before, unbeknownst to us, it was not working that day. A very pleasant young woman in a hard hat was up the pole checking wires when she overheard John’s exchange with the post woman. She climbed down and offered to set up our modem for us. Wonderful, as we are not savvy in such things. A few days later, the communications company we had been dealing with sent out someone to install our spider web of cables to get our satellite television and audio system up and running in sync. While the TV fellow was here working away, the plumber called to ask if he could come and install the three toilets we had ordered the day before at a Home Building Centre. The existing ones were low, in efficient, wobbly and badly stained. Somewhat like ourselves. We now have three lovely new high and efficient toilets that sit firmly on the floors of our three bathrooms. We have already had people in to measure up new windows for us and someone else to discuss plans for our new kitchen. And it is only a week since the moving van arrived at 7:45 a.m.

We are loving our new adventure!