Autumn Glory

I know, I know, I wax on and on about fall. Always have. Likely always will. It's by far my favourite season, and this particular weekend has been incredible. I considered joining Andrew and the two older kids who headed up into the Laurentians camping with the Venturers, but have a document to edit and papers to grade, so in the end stayed home with my youngest (currently looking long and lanky and making cupcakes while I edit).

And what a weekend.

First, it's been gorgeous. Summer weather, but not so sticky. And no bugs. The veranda was my office and I sat grading papers in dappled sunlight. The house is surrounded by colour. Out of every window, there is brilliance and wonder.

Second, it's been peaceful. A friend and her daughter came over last night and we sat outside under clear stars with candles and wine and black bean dip and cake and talked until late. The girls serenaded us with their saxophones for a while, the sound carrying through the open windows. So nice, and I have to remember to make more time for evenings like that.

Third, it's been productive. Rounded up some recalcitrant sheep with the help of a likeable young shepherd and his crook. Edited a government document. Got through the bulk of 65 papers. And did four loads of laundry, all of which got hung out to dry. 

Fourth, it's been tasty. My friend, Jeanne, brought yummy dip, I got to make fresh salsa. The girls shared some of their chocolate. And I tried a new wine. Cupcakes are now in the oven, and tonight I have a fresh pork tenderloin which I plan to stuff with spinach and walnuts so it's ready when we get home from swimming. (I exercise primarily in order to enjoy food guilt-free...makes sense to me.)

Finally, it's been lovely to just spend some time with my fast-growing, more and more independent, curious and witty 11 year old. Precious moments before she's all grown up.

Perfect September

It's no secret that I love September. After the long hot summer (not that we had one of those this year) cooler days are a respite. The leaves are turning, and the gardens have their last bloom of colour, graceful even as the foliage fades.

There are metaphors here, but I am ignoring them. It's simplicity I want today: cutting back withering perennials, dividing some ancient daffodil bulbs, pruning shrubs. Small focused tasks that restore order and rejuvenate the gardens. 

Rejuvenating myself too. I taught all week...the busy, content-heavy first week is always exhausting for faculty and students alike...despite the remnants of a lagging cold and losing my voice, and though I am on the mend, I am fatigued. 

Today, I am home, taking advantage of having no Friday classes this semester. Normally, I would be at my desk organizing for Monday, marking papers, and I will still have to do that over the weekend.

But not today. Today, spending time here in the gardens, in these cooler temperatures, with the smell of the damp earth and the freshness of a fall wind, is just what I need.

But first....

Coffee. Outside. On the mossy, stone steps beside a patch of late-blooming Black-Eyed Susan. With Galadriel, my grey cat, visiting for a head scratch.

September: "Season of mists and yellow fruitfulness..." (Keats)

School is in!

It is that time of year again. The final sticky days of summer when mornings are still humid and the sun shines doen hot even as the first leaves start to turn colour around the edges; when coffee on the porch is swapped for a 6 am run, bowls of oatmeal, and packed lunches in bright containers on the counter; when hair is brushed, forms are signed, and at least one child is sent rushing back inside for something forgotten.

Back to school time. In our house, it is a positive change. Summer is always fun, but we enjoy the transition back to routine and order. Even if it is a bit rushed at first as we get back into the swing of things, the year once again has boundaries, structure.

It's easier now everyone is older. They make their own lunches (Halle-freaking-lujah) and clear away their own breakfast dishes. No longer do I need my "Get up and go" playlist that for years got everyone out the door on time. Now the music is as varied as the kids who choose it, and might even include a live saxophone rendition of Crazy Train. 

Yes, that time of year again. Welcome back.

View of the Glen

Cottage Thoughts

They carried their own canoe and kayaks to the water this morning. Down the steep path through the pines. And now they are off slicing through the flat clear lake water, their voices and the sound of their paddles dipping carrying --the only noise across the stillness, save a dog's bark far away and the faint rustle of wind in leafy branches overhead.

I see them still: tiny confident specks in the distance. And I think to myself, when did they grow up?

And Homeward Bound...

Excerpts from journal

*please forgive spelling errors caused by technology that doesn't make it easy to edit and correct

**I'm a little OCD about spelling, capitalization, and grammar, so posting this is causing some consternation, and I daresay once my lap top is up and running again, I'll feel the need to go into editor mode and fix all the mistakes. I can't even bold or italicizes on my tablet! (I know....the horror!)

July 22

Andrew fiddling with westy again this morning.....leaking oil via a cracked pipe. Always something. Despite this, made it through the mountains and fog of early morning in southern coastal Labrador and are at ferry terminal in Blanc Sablon one hour ahead to make our booking.  Fingers crossed. 

We are all hungry. Andrew promising coffee and breakfast but may have to wait until on ferry. We are planning....hoping?...to stay tonight in a hotel with a swimming pool. Deer lake. Or cornerbrook? 

Fog horn sounds. Kids thrilled by it. Grace prefers to be out on deck. Settles her stomach. She isn't seasick exactly, but queasy with roll of the ship. Now here, playing hearts at tiny round tables in the front of the ship where the pub is when it's open. Not this morning. Had a bday party for Andrew for yesterday: the girls and I had fun finding gift store mini gifts in tribute (gourmet white chocolate and a small whale painting) and Anna drew Viking Daddy. So that was cute.

Stopped at the arches and again at Ss Ethie. Finally pulled into a valley to BBQ sausages for dinner beside a lake in middle of gros Morne. Andrew pulled out a red checkered cloth for the picnic table the way his grandmother would have. He even had clips to hold it down. Old school, baby.

July 23

No hotel rooms...with or without pools....available in Deer Lake or Cornerbrook. Then we found an online booking that reserved rooms at the Greenwood Inn and Suites for us. With pool. Yay. Swam and ordered room service and caught up on sleep. After sleeping in, Andrew hunted down westy road repairs, whole I took kids to pool, and now we wait under a shady tree fir Andrew. Boy, it has been hot, esp in cities. Record breaking heat this summer....but still cooler than ontario.

Turns out guy at welding shop thought Andrew's plan to fix oil leak ingenious and that Andrew should be a welder. Also turned out his son plays for Cornwall colts and he wishes he'd done road trip when his kids young. A got shop, material, welding and guy refused payment.. Another friendly, generous newf.

On way to port aux basques.

Dinner on a Sandy beach with powerful waves...you could feel tide pulling. Camping here in cheese an provincial park 7 km from ferry. Have to be there 430.

July 24

330: The adventure continues.....bom, bom, bom bom bom (cue LOTR)

I'm sure the young motorcyclists (early 20s, rode through Labrador in rein and thus, mud) were thrilled to be parked beside us in lane 2 while Grace blared the dance remix of My Heart Must Go On, the cheesy version of Happy Wanderer Andrew downloaded for this trip, and everyone's feel good hit: Let It Go from Frozen

5:30 and we are loading. We have cabins. 

1230 (Nova Scotia time): great sleep in utter darkness. Kids cabin had a window overlooking the port side deck and ocean, of which I was envious until reflecting that we likely had the better sleep. Got up around 11 am and strolled on deck.....so warm and calm, it was hard to believe we were out on the Atlantic. 

Through Bras D'Or in beauteous Cape Breton. We are now heading to Saint John where we are visiting with Julie and breaking trip up. 

....and thats as good a place to leave it as any, with a romantic vision of the westy heading westward into the sunset towards New Brunswick and on to home....but of course it didn't happen that way

Life doesn't happen that way.

****

Smoke in Sussex, and finally wound up overheating on highway 30 mins to Julie. Had yo call in yow truck. Got to Julie's late. Spent half today (July 25) with Andrew trying yo fix it before giving up, having it towed to storage for a week or toe, and renting a mid-sized Chrysler to take us on what is likely to be a miserable overnight trip to Glengarry.

Newfoundland Trip: Red Bay

After our leisurely few days exploring gorgeous Bonavista (well named) and eating traditional CID-based food at small cafés, and visiting John Cabot's museum (he also landed in this part of the world, setting up the start of the cod fishery....riches more valuable than the spices of the Indies he set out to find), it was time to move on.

                 The Matthew, a replica.

From our lovely cottage, we drove (with the westy part we picked up in St. John's earlier in the week) all the way back across the island, back up to the north when we caught the ferry back across the Straits of Belle Isle and back to Labrador. It was a long drive, but we made excellent time and as a result were able to catch the earlier ferry. We drive about a half hour down the paved part of the Trans Labrador to a small village calked Red Bay where we had secured renovated old whaler cabins to stay. The plan was for Andrew and Erik to get up early, drive back to Port Hope Simpson, get the van fixed, and return the same day to a Red Bay. We had rearranged our trip, and though it meant we missed the Burin Peninsula, we reasoned returnng to the East was something we could do another time. Our new plan was to catch the west coast ferry and so avoid a third pass across the long interior of Newfoundland.

The whaler cabins were charming, right on the water. Red Bay is also charming in that wild, isolated way. We ate world famous chalupa flush and chips at the restaurant. Chalupas are the smaller 6-8 man whaling vessels they took out to hunt whales with their harpoons. There was a restored one at the museum, and I thought, Crazy.

The next morning, the girls and I got up, explored the whaling museum with a great movie about the underwater archological dig of the 70-80s to find and examine what they believe might be the now 500 year old San Juan, lost here in a storm. Then we took a short and tippy boat ride out to Saddle island (which you can see from our big window) in the mouth of the harbour to hike the archeological remains of whaler stations from long ago and walk the windswept cliffs to be awed by the relentless North Atlantic as it sweeps into the straits.

Excerpts from a Journal

July 21

Now we are back, got a few small gifts and a card for Andrew tonight, and Anna drew Viking Daddy. Girls now exploring beach and I showered the salt away and am mesmerized by choppy gilded waters.

Seagulls, floating on the wind. Letting it take them. A lesson in how to ride out a storm. They are also making a terrible mess out of crab parts on a nearby rock.

We can hear the waves lapping against the cottage dock, and the creak of wood in the wind. Whipping up quite the storm out there. Easy to feel alone, solitary, even morose.

late: the lighthouse casts its beam. 1..........2, 3, 1.......2, 3. I watched it fall through the night sleepless. At the time, it irritated me. Only now that Erik and Andrew are back, falling in (with van) at 3 am (damn lack of communications in this part of world) does it once again seem friendly. Strange how a benign light can mean so much.