Tears for Nova Scotia

Unbridled madness in our paradise of Nova Scotia. It’s unsettling to say the least, and sad beyond measure. More than twenty senseless deaths. Yes, even the death of the perpetrator is senseless.

We have received heartfelt calls and emails from friends in other Canadian provinces, as well as other countries, including England, Germany and the United States of America. This is not the way we want them to think of this wonderful province: home to Canada’s worst mass shooting. No. Home to wonderful people, caring people and the most beautiful  land and seascapes. 

One has to remember that Nova Scotia has not been without tragedies throughout its history, albeit not of this nature. There is the treatment of our indigenous population since settlement by Europeans, the treatment of the Acadians during the period of the expulsion in the mid-1700s, and the treatment of the Blacks who came here in search of freedom in the latter 1700s, and found far less than they had hoped for. 

And then we’ve had other tragedies too: the Halifax explosion (1917), the Springhill mining disasters (1891, 1956, 1958) and other such disasters through the 1900s including the Westray Mine disaster in 1992. Of course, there have been countless hurricanes, and far too many fishing deaths at sea through the centuries. 

And we have responded to many others including the Titanic in 1912, and the Swiss Air disaster in 1998. And we cannot forget our response to the current Covid-19 pandemic.  In all of these we’ve shown our resilience as a people. 

Although it is difficult for us to come together in this time of social distancing and isolation; no doubt we will find a way. And we will heal. 

Is Anybody Home?

It’s mid-April to the day. There is a solitary daffodil by our shore now in bloom and many others with plump buds. We learned only yesterday that the restrictions imposed upon us here, even prohibit us from walking on the rocky shore that abuts our property. But we can sit inches away and look at it.

We have enjoyed the loons particularly this year. They are now in their resplendent summer colours. We have two pairs that haul fish quite regularly from the waters beneath. We chuckle at the mighty eagle soaring, with annoying small birds dive bombing it as it glides away. A heron just flew by on its way to some camouflaged landing.

Yesterday the sun was even out. I did my daily morning exercises bathed in its rays. I chatted with a neighbour two houses down who sat peacefully reading on her deck. Conversation feels so good. And so does a neighbour’s smile.

I confess to feeling a little house bound. I am fortunate to have my beloved here with me, although we spend much of our day in different rooms writing, reading or doing other things: for me there is fiddle practice and working on a script. And of course there is cooking. We each keep busy and find the days pass quickly.

Because we are apart during a good part of the day, we have much to talk about at lunch, at tea time, and for our late afternoon happy hour. And of course our daily after dinner walk in the neighbourhood is a special delight. Yesterday, the peepers were shrill and loud in the upper marshland just a few blocks away. Rarely do we see anyone. It is a brief distant encounter if we do. But those we see seem glad to have a wave and a quick chat en passant.

And of course, we are both making a special effort to be more regularly in touch with distant friends and even with some of our family! We know many are alone. Many do not have the luxury of a large home in a beautiful setting. We know we are fortunate indeed.

But, we have discovered Zoom recently. So we have tried it. A tea party with family, and a drinks event with friends in Ontario were a little stilted but enjoyable. And then there is Skype, which we had been more familiar with but rarely used. A neighbour invited us to a Skype cocktail hour. To our surprise that was wonderful – wonderful to see people who live so close but seem now to be so distant; and wonderful to catch up on news – not just about Covid-19 but about “LIFE”.

Communication takes effort. Friendships take effort.  People had become sloppy in their human relations exchanges. Perhaps we are now learning to make that effort. Perhaps we will realize it is worthwhile.

Isolation Easter 2020

Oh here you have a tale from me

There's wine in my cabinet here you see

And food in my pantry to feast on a bit

And toilet paper when I take a shit

So what more could I want in these peculiar days

Than whisky and wine and a few sun's rays

A walk now and then on a neighbourhood street

Makes my long day a little more complete

And I've waved at the people whom I have seen

But I cross the street - not to be mean

I keep my distance, two meters they say

And wash my hands several times a day

I cook, and I clean, and I eat quite a lot

And email and Skype so I don't get forgot

And shop on line when I need some supplies

And listen to seagulls and love their loud cries

I watch the tide as it comes and it goes

All of this helps with my isolation woes.

But I hope and I pray, and I'll even beg

That the Bunny comes with my chocolate egg.