Springing into Action

It’s raining today. But the deck has now been set up for a warming spring and on through summer heat into autumn’s crisp warmth. We’ve even enjoyed several hours out there taking advantage of the sun, the fresh air and the view. It has been sufficient to buff up the tan that has been fading gradually since our return from Cuba three weeks ago.

It is always good to be home. To be in familiar space. To enjoy familiar comforts. And to be with good friends once again. However, little did we know that we were leaving three months in a safe country, virtually free of Covid concerns, to return to a village hit hard by Covid for the first time since the pandemic struck. It had been, when we left, a Covid-free paradise. An oasis. But one adjusts.

The loons are back. The seal has paid us a visit. An eagle was spotted overhead. A boat has been cradled at the boat works across the river. Mr. McGregor is in his garden pondering the plants, gathering seaweed, and looking out for Peter Rabbit. Congenial chatter is heard from the yards down the road.

We are very fortunate to be living here, and we do not take that for granted.

November Winds

Five loons I saw, I am sure they were

Swimming today in this tidal stream

Back from the lakes of summer bliss

Or simply passing this late autumn scene

Now November winds are cold and strong

The leaves' stubborn hold has finally let go

We’ve had our first frost in recent days

And do I see a pellet or two of icy snow.

We’ve been teased and spoiled this year

By lingering warmth and bright sun

Late blooms have given us extended joy

But warm days are now on the run.

Our stockinged feet are on the coffee table

The fire before us blazes warm and bright

A glass of peaty whisky cradled in our hand

Makes us realize that all is right.

Of Granville Fairies and Raindrops

We have lived in Nova Scotia for only three and a half years. Our village of Granville Ferry has a population of 110 according to the last census. Several houses on our road, the oldest settler route in Canada, are currently unoccupied as permanent residences. So one would think that our locale would not be one to attract trick-or-treaters.

Our first Hallowe’en here saw a timid three children appear at our door. This left us with a pleasant quantity of chocolate that we may not have otherwise purchased. 

For our second Hallowe’en, we were more prudent and purchased less candy. Between six and seven more energetic children appeared at our door that year. We thought this to be quite amazing given that we were living in the early days of the Covid era. 

Covid has seen an influx of young families moving to our general area. We thought that for our third Hallowe’en, perhaps there would be a slight increase in costumed visitors; so we purchased enough to feed a small army, realizing full well that we might remain the beneficiaries, as well as the benefactors, of a sizeable quantity of chocolate.

And they came. And they came from far and wide: From our village of course, from Granville Centre, from Granville Beach, from Port Royal and from Victoria Beach, from Annapolis Royal and Clementsvale, from Long Island (Nova Scotia) and even from far away Dartmouth. 

And they came early. We were sitting on our back deck enjoying the last rays of sunshine at 4:30 p.m. when the first knock came at our front door. And they kept coming. Until well after eight o'clock they came when it was finally dark and our carved pumpkin was, at last, able to display its glowing toothless smile.

There were Rabbits, and Ninjas, and Zombies, and Butterflies, several Witches of course, and Princesses, Angels, a beaming Soccer Player, and Astronauts, two Spidermen, and a giant Mushroom. All were truly delightful. 

Some were timid. Some bold. But perhaps the most interesting of all was a young girl who came as a shimmering Raindrop. And, as her proud father pointed out, it had all been her idea. Dressed entirely in white, she carried a large white umbrella bedecked with solar twinkling lights, and dangling ribbons of white cloth hanging around its perimeter.

In all, we counted forty-one costumed visions who went away with chocolate delights, leaving us enthralled, and almost entirely lacking in sweets.

Jack Frost is Sleeping

Today there is a heavy fog hanging over the river. The air feels fresh, moist and clean. And the sun is bright and strong.  I have been sitting on our deck basking in it.

I know that the days when I can do such a thing are numbered for this year. But I will relish in such days or hours as much as I am able and the weather permits.

The azalea by the water is in bloom. A lupin is in flower. The butterfly bush still has abundant blossoms and the rose has buds that are ready to burst.  Yet it is October 6. Although the nights a cool now, we have still had no frost.

Ah, Nova Scotia!

See You In September

September is such a wonderful time of the year in so many places that I have lived. And this is no less true here in Nova Scotia. It is, perhaps, my favourite time of the year. 

The air is clear. The daytime sun still has a comforting warmth. The nights and early mornings are pleasantly cool. The morning fog on the river is magical as are the sunrises and painted skies that we can see from our back room as we sip our first coffee. 

Last evening, the tide was very low and the gulls feasted and fought over fish in the shallow water and the crabs on the exposed shore. A heron strutted amongst them like a teacher on yard duty at recess. One could almost see hands behind its back, a flowing scholar's robe and spectacles on its long nose, as it sought out mischief among the flock. 

And the full moon rising above the South Mountain over Annapolis Royal needs no description. It was simply stunning.

Evening Reflections

 

Last evening at 8:30 from our deck in Granville Ferry. 

... Sometimes words are not needed.

In Search of Ghosts

 

Yesterday we took a drive down the road several kilometers. We were on a search for a graveyard, that until recently had been abandoned. It is known as the Mariner’s Burial Ground at Port Wade. The entrance sits hidden among the brush at the side of the road. 

However, once out of the car, one could see there was an old laneway through the overgrown bush. Recently it had been cleared enough to let one pass through. The clearance had been undertaken by a dedicated solo rescuer of forgotten cemeteries in Nova Scotia.

We trekked along this laneway, climbing over a fallen tree and ducking under overhanging branches. It was a little distance and as the water of the Annapolis Basin came into sight through the trees, one wondered if ever there would be a graveyard in this tangled wood.

But there it was , two small clearings surrounded by trees and brush, sitting close to the water’s edge. And several of the stones, going back well over 100 years, were still clearly marked. 

And there standing adjacent to another marking his wife's death, was the stone we had come in search of: Captain John Johnson, died 1843. This was the father of the man by the same name who is supposed to have built our house.

Our house is reputed to have been built “c.1844”, the year after the Senior John Johnson died. However, when the house was rescued from demolition in 1991, documents found in the walls suggested that the Senior Johnson had lived with his son in the house before he died. Indeed it is suggested that before 1844, there was a smart Cape House on the site, perhaps built in the 1830s.

Over the years, the house was added to, perhaps in the 1860s, and then tarted up about 1905 with bay windows and a turret and perhaps a bigger rear wing than one that may have been added in the 1860s.

The person who rescued the house in 1991, states that although it was not exactly a restoration, but rather a salvation and renovation, he attempted to return it to a semblance of its former self. He also added a large rear room overlooking the water with grand decks.

But in seeking out the past, one often comes upon confusing or inconsistent information. Captain John Johnson Jr. had four children. One document indicates that a son, also named John Johnson, died at sea at the age of 22 on his way from England to Cuba in 1865. Another document states this son "died of billious fever on board this vessel in 1866 en roye between Newport, England and Cardenas, Cuba (Armstrong & Wagner, pg 72, 184)" and a further document states that this same son, who was "unmarried", was murdered at “St John harbor”. Perhaps the story of his death at sea was simply a cover-up of what was viewed as a seedy death. We may never know the true story there.

These ghosts all had vital lives and were important people in their day. Their memories should be preserved. Indeed, there was even a schooner built here in Granville Ferry in the 1870s named the John Johnson, presumably named after this well known sea Captain who owned and managed many barques and schooners during his lifetime.

At any rate, the house, which is now our home, passed out of the Johnson family in 1874 to a succession of owners. At some point it became a tenement with three apartments. Eventually, this led to its neglect and near demise. When it was purchased in 1991, it had been vacant for many years.

Thankfully, someone with vision, took on the task of it’s regeneration. And today the house sits proudly on a knoll overlooking the Annapolis River. Gone are the wharves and the schooners and the flurry of maritime activity. The shore has eroded. But there is still a good life to be had here. So we honour those who were good stewards of this property and are grateful that those who were not have passed forgotten.