Indirect Delight

The sun has now moved so far north that we no longer benefit from the magnificent sunrise skies of the winter months. At least, not directly. 

But we do see its rosy reflection painted into the chairs and railings on our deck, on the calm water, and in the trees behind. 

Beauty can be found in most things. One simply has to be open to seeing it.

Call the Docker

 A sure sign of spring, from the vantage point of our upper deck, is the arrival of the first fishing boat of the season. It has come for repair work at the boat works across the river from us. It is always a delight to our eyes to watch the vessel nestle up and into the cradle that will raise it slowly to its perch on land. Then, several days later, sometimes longer, it will be lowered, repaired and often repainted, into the water again. And we’ll watch it disappear slowly down the river and into the Annapolis Basin. Sometimes, this is as another boat is approaching the wharf, awaiting its turn at the "spa". We never tire of being a witness to this ritual.

Weather Go We

I remember in years gone by, long winters of deep white snow and blue skies. Our father created a skating rink in our back yard. We spent hours playing hockey there and honing our skills on skates. I never became a pro. I was on the Church’s B league team. But it was fun. Always it was followed by hot chocolate cradled in cold hands. In later years, it was hours spent on the pristine cross country ski trails. The silence of a snow covered woods and the cloud of breath as one took in the wonder of nature.

Today winter seems out of focus. One day it feels like spring with green grass and pleasant temperatures, the next, temperatures dip to ice-age depths. Then snow, a skiff or a blizzard. Then freezing rain. Then ice pellets followed by thawing. 

Often the weather folk get it wrong. Or we weren’t in their thoughts after all. The weather teases, then laughs at us. Fog, mist, rain, snow, a glimpse of the sun, stunning sunsets, magnificent sunrises all within a relatively short period of time. How does nature adapt? How do we? I guess we have to.

Winter Solstice

 

SOLSTICE 2022

The sun has set over cold Fundy Bay

No more southward from today

Now it settles still for three days

Then northward head its golden rays

Each year since creatures first arose

At night in darkness they took repose

But wondered at the sparkling stars

And planets like the moon and mars

With longer days the earth takes hold

Of rebirth from the dark and cold

Our joints too are eased from pain

And seeds wake up once again

It happens slowly but at a pace

That tells us speed wins not the race.

Let’s take a moment just like the sun

To gather strength, renewal has begun.

What's in a Sunset

Our former home in the Northumberland Hills of Ontario benefited from its perch on top of a knoll. From there we could watch the early morning sunrise with coffee from our front porch. And we had a stunning unobstructed view of the sunset while sitting with a glass of wine on our back deck. 

When we moved to Granville Ferry, Nova Scotia, and bought our home on the Annapolis River, we thought that we would miss seeing the sunset. Our home here in the Annapolis Valley is nestled in the shadow of what locals call the "North Mountain". This impressive escarpment deprives us of viewing the actual setting of the sun. It does however, shelter us from the strong winds of the Bay of Fundy.

We do however have a wonderful view of the morning sunrise from our bedroom, sitting room and back deck. 

It changes daily and even by the minute. It also changes with the seasons.

The canvas is dependent on the formation or existence of clouds, mist or even fog.

 

To our surprise however, we discovered that there are other ways to enjoy a sunset. Now, almost as much as seeing the sun itself disappear, we enjoy watching the effect of that sun setting on the historic Town of Annapois Royal, which lies across the river from us. 

The town's historic homes and buildings dance in the golden light. It is a true delight to see.

Fiona's Faint Brush with Granville Ferry

Storm readiness is always wise. The weather, although often predicted by the weather gurus, is in the end unpredictable. A master of it's own house.

We watched the predicted tracks of the storm. We prepared. We waited. At bedtime, barely a flutter of leaves, a bit of drizzle. At 2:00 a.m. only the ocassional gusts, short lived. A little rain. At 3:00, I raised my head and noticed that the lights of Annapolis Royal across the river were out. Ours had not even flickered.

We were indeed lucky. Barely a leaf down on the lawn. But the destruction and disruption elsewhere in our province and the other maritime provinces! How dreadful. How sad.

One can prepare. One can hope. But the climate is changing and we no longer have the luxury of regularity. We must all be resilient. I think we are.

Of Time and Tides

We’ve had an amazing summer off-grid at our rustic cabin in Ontario. But is it ever good to be back home in Nova Scotia as summer becomes drowsy and autumn begins to awaken. There were plenty of herons on our lake, but the herons are here too on our beach at low tide. 

The view of Annapolis Royal, across the river from us, is always changing and always a delight, whether there be fog, rain or a stunning sunset reflected off the historic buildings of Lower St. George Street. Boats come and go. Some are fishing boats, some sailboats or smaller craft. 

I haven’t seen a seal recently and the loons are not yet back for their winter stay, but I have watched with delight a cocky small bird pester a magnificent bald eagle, and listened to the loud harangue of the sea gulls gracefully circling overhead, bleached white and blue-grey. It’s good to be home.