Tree Hugger's Lament

When we first moved to the farm outside of Warkworth, Ontario, 25 years ago, there was a very young Catalpa tree growing beneath the wires that brought hydro to the house. I decided it should be moved so that it could grow without being an eventual threat to those wires. I moved it. It struggled for a few years, but eventually it grew and flourished. When we sold the Warkworth property, it was about 25 feet high with a truck of about 2 feet in circumference. Yes it suffered in the late frosts we occasionally had. It lost its leaves, looked dead and then eventually it would send out new foliage. Its bloom was magnificent.

Then we sold our home and moved to Nova Scotia. It was a delight to discover that next to our driveway at our newly purchased home was a towering Catalpa of a size we had never seen. Its girth was at least five or six feet and its height approaching one hundred feet. As in Ontario, it came into leaf late.

Unfortunately, we discovered it had a large crevice at the base of the trunk and the main limb near the top was splitting away. The tree had a definite lean towards our house. Sadly, it had to go! But the tree was about one foot off our property line and the house next door was vacant; its owner rarely coming to the house of his birth.

Luckily, we discovered that a neighbour was acting as a caretaker of the large home and was able to contact this absent owner. After explaining the situation to the owner, the neighbour advised that we had permission to remove the tree, but that it would be at our own expense. Although this was not the hoped for response, we agreed.

However, being new to the area, we had no idea whom to contact. The neighbour said he could recommend someone reliable and that he would give us the phone number when he got home. That day the phone number did not appear. The next morning as we were having coffee, there was some commotion outside. It was the neighbour with two young men who operate a professional tree removal service. They have the equipment for such a daunting job. Yes, they could take down the monster tree and they could do it two days from now!

Since arriving at our new home, we have been constantly amazed by the endless stream of very capable contractors who have filled our need for various undertakings here. Carpenters, plumbers, electricians, heavy equipment operators and more, they have all been extremely reliable and a pleasure to be around. Moreover, they have all been promptly at our service. The amount of work that has been accomplished in the short time we have resided here has simply astounded us.

Ho Ho Hoe

We received a phone message last evening from our newly found electrician. Therefore we knew that someone was to arrive early in the morning to dig a trench from the house to the boat house. The purpose was so that electricity could be hooked up at the water's edge. We anticipated someone arriving with a small hand-held trench digger. But at 8:00 a.m., a large truck with a rather large backhoe/front-end loader on a rather large flatbed trailer arrived with two men... When they discovered they would not be able to get the machine down into our yard, they called a third person who spoke to a fourth who lives down the street to see if they could enter from his property and traverse yet another person's lawn ... Of course they could - after all, everyone here knows one other. Then two others arrived with heavy cable for the 200 amp service. After all, the boat house, which is really a large shed with large windows overlooking the water, is to serve as a waterside private pub.

The backhoe operator, who lives just down the road from us, dug a trench two feet wide and three feet deep from the house to the shed. In the process, he avoided all of our recent shrubbery plantings - We were amazed at how the operator manipulated that machine with ease, grace and precision. Once the trench was completed, the cable was laid and the soil was replaced, raked and patted down. Large rocks were disposed of on the shore and, afterwards, the place appeared, to our amazement, relatively unscathed. Afterwards, the operator dug up a large nuisance tree stump for us. Not only all of this, but then they took away all of our large and unsightly brush from the trees that I had pruned a couple of weeks ago. And one of the fellows replaced three outdoor lamps that had not functioned properly.

At one time there were seven of us standing around, which only goes to prove that "many hands make light work". In this case several lights that is.

Restoration

Today has been a blustery June Sunday by the sea. The air is chilly, more October than June. John went to the beautiful and historic Anglican Church. I did not. I have no place in my life for organized religion in particular, or any religion. People can believe what they want in that regard, and if it brings them a sense of tranquility, then lovely.

I, instead, went for a bicycle ride across the causeway to the Historic Gardens in Annapolis Royal. There, I went for a peaceful walk in its seventeen pristine acres. The rhododendrons were magnificent in their vibrant and varied colours: mauve, purple, red and white. The towering trees offered a respite from the biting wind. 

A gate, latched shut to keep the deer from intruding, leads to an outer trail along an ancient dyke. It had been built centuries before to keep the sea out and the salt marsh fertile. I walked slowly along its grassy circular path. I breathed in the salty air. This was meditation enough to restore my soul. 
The wind flared my nostrils clean and expunged fatigue from my heavy lungs. My pace was measured. However, the cycle home along the river shore was against the east wind. It was both challenging and invigorating. As I climbed the second to last hill, I passed wild lupins, purple. pink and white on both sides of the path. Out of breath and nearly home again, I felt cleansed.

Boat Launch

After a very enjoyable bicycle ride into town and along the rail trail that follows the Annapolis River, we stopped for lunch at the "smallest pub in Nova Scotia". This pub sits near the pier in Annapolis Royal in Market Square. 
After lunch we stopped at the adjacent pier. Our purpose was to inquire about a large wooden fishing boat in dry dock at Annapolis Royal. 
There we spoke with three very engaging workers who were obviously associated with the boat and pleased to tell us a little about it. We were very excited to learn from them that it would be water-bound at the next high tide in about one hour's time. So we peddled home at full throttle and sat on our shore with our cameras at the ready. 

Then the boat started to move. Ever so slowly, it inched its way down the rails into the water. The boat, the Lady Cavell apparently built in the 1980s, harvests salmon from salmon farms around the coast of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. 
This dry dock is operated as a non-profit business for the private fishermen in the area. A much smaller lobster boat was tied to the pier waiting next in line for its turn at repair work. While writing this, it had settled into its cradle on shore.
I caught the event in a rather wobbly video. Admittedly, it is a little like watching paint dry. However, for those who have never seen a boat launched, it may be worth while to take a few minutes to view this:
Here is the YouTube link: https://youtu.be/ty4RbtDNFHw.

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!