A Real LIFT

We left Granville Ferry on a chilly 2 degree Celsius morning to cross what is called the South Mountain for the Atlantic coast of Nova Scotia. As we climbed the mount the temperature gradually dropped to Zero. The rain showers turned to sleet and there was a gentle covering of snow on the ground near the ultimate height. But as we descended again toward our destination of Liverpool, the temperature climbed again to 3C. Liverpool is a town that sits at the mouth of, coincidentally, the Mersey River, where fishing and other vessels find shelter.

The reason for our journey was the Liverpool International Theatre Festival (LIFT) at the historic Astor Theatre, which has been held in this seaside community every second year for 14 festival seasons. Although called an “amateur” theatre festival, the quality of acting in many cases was that of a trained professional. The genre of works varied immensely. 

This is a juried event; but personally speaking, given the wide range of styles of theatre, there can be no real winners or losers. The task of picking best show, or best actor there is of a pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey nature. Shows were both verbal and non-verbal, classical and avant-garde, and they ranged from two performers to eleven. And, of course, shows were performed in the native language of the performers.

What is remarkable about such events is the diversity of people who travel at considerable expense from far across the globe to a small Nova Scotia town. In addition to one Nova Scotia entry, troupes came from Egypt, Nepal, Bangladesh, Iran, Mexico, Peru and Wales. The Iranian troupe was dramatically cut down from about seven members to two by immigration problems in Turkey. Unfortunately, this meant a scramble to produce a different show than the one they had prepared for. It was a challenge well met. An East African troupe and the Chinese troupe could not get Visas and so cancelled at the last minute. As an outsider, one can only speculate about the issues that caused these problems.

What is also remarkable is the amount of volunteer work that went into transporting, housing, feeding and entertaining these strangers in a strange land. Of course, with different cultural norms, and by reason of the sheer size of the undertaking there were hiccups in the process; but it was clear to me that a majority of the visitors and the local inhabitants were having a wonderful time – and this despite language barriers and the uncertainnty of late October Nova Scotia weather.

Four days of indulging in fine theatrical art, was both fulfilling and exhausting – even for an audience. But our journey home across the South Mountain was in joyful sunshine and lined with trees still vibrant with autumn colour. It is always good to be home again.

Delaps Cove

There is a sweet musty smell pervading the woods at this time of year. The forest floor is carpeted with leaves in a rich dappled array of colours. The ferns are a lush golden brown. The fact that the leaves are now falling means the canopy overhead is much less dense. The light filters through in a more pronounced manner. The sound of silence is pervading… a crack here, a rustle there.

Today we went for our first walk on the nearby Delaps Cove Wilderness Trail … or I should say, on a part of it. The pathway wound through the woods and down the hill to the shore cliffs. There the mighty Bay of Fundy greeted us with its steady waves crashing into the rocks. These seemed to be a compression of smaller boulders fashioned over the timeless ages. The path then took us along the cliff edge and up into a deep cove. This might have been in some faraway and exotic land. There the sound and sight of a steady waterfall cascading down the cliff edge met us. Far below was a rocky beach that is no doubt covered by the high tides of this Bay of Fundy.

We did not have the time to take the longer route to the other trail loop. Next time we will be sure to make the time.

Autumn's Lure

Yesterday I saw a loon swimming off our shore

This is not a usual sight in summertime

But summer has passed us now

And autumn’s crisp days are with us once more

Bringing vibrant colours to the wooded hill

So loons move then from lakes to the salty sea

And I from hours outside to window views

And to chase away the evening’s chill

I once again light the waiting fire

And don a sweater and long pants

Which know nothing of the month’s gone by

When scant clothes were all I did require.

Yet autumn has a bold and breathless charm

The air is fresh with scent of fallen leaves

The silence of the woods is loud indeed

As nature settles down in restful calm.

Heron Today

Perhaps there is nothing that unusual about seeing a heron on our Nova Scotia shore. However, they always fascinate me. Their stillness. Their grace. Their cautious attention to the micro world around them. And the stillness is catching. It is a meditation. A source of calm.