
“Love is like a friendship caught on fire.” -Jeremy Taylor
“Love must be as much a light, as it is a flame.” -Henry David Thoreau

“Love is like a friendship caught on fire.” -Jeremy Taylor
“Love must be as much a light, as it is a flame.” -Henry David Thoreau
Ailsa’s travel-themed photo challenge this week is Architecture.
While I was out and about in the older section of St. John’s last month, I stopped to admire some of the colourful Victorian rowhouses near the downtown. Tourists come every year looking for the street called Jelly Bean Row, but there is no one street. It is the nickname given to all the vibrantly painted row houses in the downtown area.


Ahhh…Home Sweet Home!
After two busy weeks in our fair capital city of St. John’s, my husband and I are once again happy to be back in our house on the Point. Make no mistake, though, I always enjoy our extended summer jaunt revisiting my birthplace, even though husband has to bring some work with him. Time spent with the kids and grandkids is always a great thing, as were the walks around Mundy Pond and Quidi Vidi Lake, not to mention the dining out, the shopping, and celebrating husband’s birthday. We even managed to take a couple of side trips to Grates Cove and Portugal Cove while we were there.


My trip would not have been complete, however, if I had not taken a spin up to Signal Hill.
Is it any wonder one of my favourite spots has a spectacular view of the ocean? I know, I know. I live by the sea. You’d think I would have had my fill of huge bodies of water by now. But no, when the yearning for the sea beckons, I must respond.









I expect to be extremely busy over the coming weeks, finishing the first draft of my novel (but I will be checking in here too!). I’m hoping to have it completed by the time my daughter and her family come to visit in the latter part of August. Wish me luck!
Further Reading:
Sometimes I’m Still that St. John’s Girl
My husband and I are enjoying our second week away from home, spending most of our time in my birthplace, St. John’s, the capital city of Newfoundland. This past weekend, however, we took a short trip to Grates Cove.


This little community is the most northerly one on the Avalon Peninsula, and is my mother’s hometown.


My father’s maternal roots are also here, so most of my relatives originated in Grates Cove. Some of them still live here, and others have summer homes.
Grates Cove is actually a National Historic site, recognized for its acres of rock walls.
From the last of the 1700’s to the early 1900’s, local residents used the rocks to define spaces within their environment. The rocks were thrown, stacked and piled into more than 160 acres of land to set aside fields, create gardens, store vegetables, protect livestock and to use as cemeteries. (source: beyondbaccalieu.com)



Like many of the coastal communities in our province, Grates Cove was a desirable place because of its prolific fishing grounds. First settled in 1790, its population has shrunk over the years, but it still supports the livelihood of a number of local fisher-persons, and is a popular tourist destination.
Many of these tourists have loved the place so much, they bought property of their own and put down roots. It has been reported that Grates Cove has the highest per capita in all of Newfoundland of “Mainlanders” buying up houses to live.
If you are ever in the area and get a chance to visit this picturesque little fishing village, I am sure you will understand why the “come-from-aways” fell in love with it and made up their minds to stay.

Have you ever visited tiny, out-of-the-way communities like Grates Cove? Are any of your relatives still living in places such as these?
Disclaimer: No wildlife was harmed during the creation of this photo shoot.
My son came for a visit here in Newtown this past week. On one of the days, I went along to take pics of him and my husband playing beach golf. This beautiful sandy beach is only a few hundred yards from our house. The weather was cool and windy, but I liked the way the photos turned out.










What do you like to do when you go to the beach?
Here is my take on Ailsa’s Travel Theme: Ripples this week.
First, some evening shots along the shores near my home:


This morning I shot these pics of my husband and Vivian on their pre-breakfast jaunt:


There were a few “ripples” of laughter from behind the camera too. 
I’m sharing a few smiles I’ve collected from around the world in today’s post. While you listen to the great Louis Armstrong, it is my hope these photos will put a smile on your face too. 🙂
Cuba:




Jamaica:




Italy:


Friends in Florida:
Relatives in Ottawa:
Dominican Republic:






This morning I read a funny post by 40 is the new 13, a fellow blogger, on how children make crazy assumptions based on their own brand of logic, such as dogs are boys and cats are girls.
It sparked a memory for me. It wasn’t of an assumption one of my kids made, but a memory of what my son said one day when he was in grade two. I think it would be considered a malapropism.
Above is a pic I took of my boy back in the day, waiting for the school bus on his first day of kindergarten. When he got to second grade, his teacher, Mrs. Snow, was a kind and lovely young woman, and all the children adored her.
One day, when my little boy was nearing the end of that school year, he got off the bus and came home with an interesting piece of news. My friend and I were chatting over coffee when he entered the kitchen. He dropped his book bag and announced,
“Guess what? Mrs. Snow isn’t going to be a grade two teacher anymore.”
“No?” I asked, curious. “Is she giving up teaching already?” It seemed odd because she was nowhere near the age of retirement. “Oh, she’s going to teach a different grade, is she?”
“No,” he said. “She’s going to be a prostitute teacher.”
I nearly choked on my coffee, while my friend tried in vain to suppress her laughter.
Now the first thing I did was gently correct him. “You must mean substitute teacher, honey.”
The next thing I thought was, where did he hear that word? It wasn’t a word that was bandied about in our household. It wasn’t like he was living in a bordello, or that we let him watch a steady stream of TV shows like Hill Street Blues or Spencer for Hire. And I sure as heck couldn’t imagine it as a topic of conversation among him and the other kids around his age. How did this word get into his vocabulary?
To this day, the answer remains a mystery.
Another one I liked was when my niece asked for a “girl-cheese” sandwich. Even when her mother corrected her, she continued to say it.
“It’s my cheese sandwich. And I’m a girl, right?”
Did you have any “verbal typos” to share from your childhood, or from one of your own kids?
(Of course, you don’t need to be a kid to say the darndest thing. The other day I called a take-out restaurant and asked if they had any “pressure-treated” chicken. I’m still shaking my head over that one. 😉 )
More fun reading:
Dogs are boys, Cats are girls
This week’s photo challenge at the Daily Post inspired me to have a look back on our memorable trip to Italy and France. It didn’t take long to come “up” with some photos that fit nicely with the theme.
(Not sure if it’s against the rules to share more than one. ;)) I hope you enjoy them.





















