Where The Heart Is

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I can hardly believe it. It’s been nearly five years since my husband and I went through with our plan to trade in our old lives and move out of the city.

In August of 2010, we threw caution to the wind and put our home of ten years on the market. Paul kissed me goodbye, drove to his hometown, and began overseeing the gargantuan job of renovating his grandfather’s old two-storey in Bonavista North. When the sale of our house closed near the end of September, Maisie, Vivian and I joined him. We stayed nearby in a friend’s vacant summer home until the bulk of the work was completed.

During the first week of December that year, we finally had enough upgrades done to buy our new appliances, unpack the boxes, and begin to set up house.

Do I have any regrets? Not many. That first winter, I missed living close to my family, and I still wish I could see my children and grandchildren more often than I do. But other than that, I am happy to have relocated here to our home by the sea. Somehow, I don’t think I would have taken up writing the way I have if I’d stayed in the city, so taking this journey to fulfill my lifelong dream has certainly made it all worthwhile.

Besides that, Paul’s dream to return to his boyhood home has come true too. ❤

Looking back now, I think we can both vouch for the old saying: the best journey is the one that takes you home.

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Have you lived to see a dream come to fruition?
Or are you working on one for the future?

Ephemeral

To trace the remote in the immediate; the eternal in the ephemeral; the past in the present; the infinite in the finite; these are to me the springs of delight and beauty. ~ H. P. Lovecraft

Captured from our doorstep last weekend…

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…and a few minutes later.
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Photo Challenge: Ephemeral

Winter’s Glaze

A Chilly Welcome ;)
A Chilly Greeting?

A couple of weeks ago, we weathered yet another “lovely” ice storm. The freezing rain painted every surface with sleet, resulting in slippery walks, treacherous roads, and a thick coat of glittering rime on just about everything. Oh Joy!

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Our neighbour’s view of our point of land, with the ocean view lost in the fog beyond

151 (1280x1008)If you’ve never heard about the phenomenon of “ice-fog”, this is what it looks like.

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A ghostly mist hangs in the air, glazing everything in a sheet of ice.

I hoped to capture some shots of sunshine on the glitter, but the forecast wasn’t cooperating. Not one to miss an opportunity, however, I headed outside to see what artistry I might find under the heavy grey overcast of gloom.

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026 (1194x1280)The scene is still, frozen in windless silence. I find a stalk encased in a shell of ice.

181 (1280x853)174 (1280x779) Abandoned clothespins encapsulated on our summer neighbour’s line.
Who knew they would prove useful for this shutterbug?

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My Clothesline
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A Frozen Bud

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Fences are crusted with frost, and icicles trickle in abundance.075 (1280x852)147 (1280x853)118 (1280x853)

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A Twig in its Icy Tomb

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The fog begins to clear…

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 …and the clouds lift a little, allowing a few thin milky rays to shine through.

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All at once, everything glows with a sparkly sheen…

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…and the “batty catters” take on a cold blue tint at the ocean’s edge.
A wide band of slobby ice meanders in the water near the coastline.

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Grass that reminds me of  glass straws

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The opening sky colours our sea blue once again.

So far, we’ve enjoyed countless sunny days and not too much of the white stuff.
But that may be about to change; a winter storm alert is issued for the weekend.

How are you braving the winter?
Are you longing to put this season behind you?
Or are you finding beauty in unexpected places?

January Blue

It’s a blue winter day on Perry’s Point.

It isn’t a sad and lonely day, but one painted with the hues of a brilliant blue sky and a blanket of sunshine, the kind of day where the sun and snow merge to design graceful shadows in the hollows of the landscape.

IMG_0056 (800x521)Sun on the newly fallen and drifted snow creates a tapestry of shadowy forms,
from the palest baby blue to the deepest of indigo.

IMG_0067The slanting afternoon rays of sunlight hold little heat,
but warm the heart of this nature-lover nonetheless.

IMG_0075 (800x519)The surface of the snow waves and crests,
while most of the bay lies still under a layer of slush and ice.

IMG_0076 (800x475)Dunes of scalloped white surround me…

IMG_0123 (800x541)…and the only hint of sound is the faint exhale of a frigid breeze.

IMG_0089 (800x533)Certain feathered creatures have already been here.

IMG_0114 (800x518)At the end of the Point I reach the icy blue coastline…

IMG_0096 (800x533)…where the water is still full of movement in spite of the sub-zero air.

IMG_0084 (800x402)Cold, but fluid…

IMG_0085 (800x383)…clear and beautiful.

IMG_0145 (800x623)Other shadows dapple a weather-worn barn…

IMG_0149 (800x428)…and sun-bleached fences.

IMG_0152 (800x533)Hidden in shade, a bird house waits for spring, and a new tenant…

IMG_0130 (800x522)…while our neighbour’s fishing boat awaits a new summer.

IMG_0163 (800x574)Ben Perry’s shed is called a “store” around these parts.

IMG_0159 (800x472)Still more shadows hide in furrows of snow and last summer’s grasses. I wade in.

IMG_0068 (800x533)My toes are like ice cubes inside my boots at this point. I hop over the fence to home.

IMG_0155 (800x571)Time to put the kettle on…

IMG_0183 (800x533)…and thaw myself out with a cup of tea.

IMG_0182 (800x533)And my world changes from blue to green.

How is your January going? What is the colour of your winter? 

Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge: Shadowed

Summer Lovin’

Summer in my province of Newfoundland and Labrador, compared to most of North America, is short but ever so sweet. What makes it so cherished, to my mind?

The following photos were all taken in Lead Cove, the little community where I raised my children.

I love my home for its natural beauty,
its refreshing, rugged and
unspoiled charm,
for its clear and wide blue skies
without a whisper of smog.

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I love the clean, sparkling water
and the glistening rocks adorning the coastline
that beg to be traced
and trod upon by eager footsteps.

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I love summer in Newfoundland
for its breathtaking views
of seascapes and landscapes
when I embark on a hike.

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Whether I traverse
its beaches of sand or
climb its rocky windswept hills,
I know my camera will find its aim.

I embrace it because
the bushes and shrubs,
green and lush,
are heavy with fragrance
and of wild roses in bloom…

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…while in the gardens,
the planted perennials are brilliant with colour,
delighted at last
to spread their bright petals to the sun.

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I love the hardy trees of Newfoundland
in summer…

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…as they stretch
their ripe foliage to the sky.
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Shot through with rays of sunlight,
a shimmering haze settles over the treetops
like a warm summer veil.

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After a long winter and dismal spring
of cold, naked branches,
they, as I do,
breathe a sigh of gratitude
at the return of this warm and golden season.

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Are you filled with Summer Lovin’ where you live?

Greenspond – Part II

After completing the hiking trail on Saturday, my husband and I took a drive through scenic Greenspond.

It is an especially nice time to visit because of the pleasant weather. The little outport town sparkles like a jewel in the afternoon sun, the plaintive cries of seagulls the only sounds that break the silence.

198The breeze has abated entirely, leaving the surface of the harbour basin as smooth as a mirror.

212Pretty houses dot the land while oddly shaped chunks of iceberg dot the still blue water.

208The peacefulness of the setting is magical, meditative, hypnotizing.
215I am drawn to its perfect calm…
209…and I drink in its beauty as I quietly reflect.

210Troubles melt away…
216…and make room for inspiration.
218We stop to admire this gem of a property. Everything about it is impeccable, from the patchwork quilt on the clothesline…

219…to the softly scalloped valances in each window.
To me, it is a work of art.

Have you ever visited a place that seemed the perfect setting for a story?
Where do you go to think and dream?

“Life Means All That It Ever Meant”

 The past few years have taken our mother on a difficult journey, and our family right along with her.
Mercifully, she finally succumbed to her illness last week, and

we were able to say our goodbyes as she entered into her eternal rest.

I found this poem that speaks of my sweet mother’s lifelong attitude of pragmatism and hope. Somehow it gives me strength and reassurance, reminding me how lucky I was to have known and loved this woman who was my mother.

 All Is Well
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other,
That we are still.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference in your tone,

Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

 Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,

Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it.

 Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was,
There is absolute, unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you,
for an interval.
Somewhere very near.
Just around the corner.

All is well.

 Henry Scott Holland
1847-1918

What Inspires Me

Babies. Newborns, four-month-olds, six-month-olds, toddlers…but before they are swallowed up by the children they become. I love their newness, their freshness, their tiny hands and feet, the downy skin and clear blue eyes. And their helplessness and need for your care. My little grandson Joshua (and his mom and dad!) gave me that gift, the gift of being needed at the most basic level, at a time when I thought those days were behind me. Feeding him, rocking him, singing a lullaby. Must be my maternal side showing..

Leah…my beautiful granddaughter Leah. Her sunny smile, her boundless energy, her sweet, loving heart. The way she shares her thoughts so succinctly, but then her sudden shyness when she meets someone new (I know where that comes from!). Her innocent, yet beguiling charm.

The ocean. My new backyard…no, much more than that; it surrounds me! Every day I look out, it is a slightly different colour; morphing between shades of electric blue sapphire, or steel grey, or deep, dark, ominous navy with frothy white-caps. The sea is like a living thing, mercurial, organic, merciless. And endlessly beautiful.

Animals…and not just my cats. Horses, dogs, whales, birds, wild beings in the forest. Creatures of the sea and sky.

Conversation and dialogue, a monologue, poetry, words… talk shows, interviews, journals, diaries, songs! Slightly different shades of meaning expressed by employing a different word, an inflection, a facial expression, an innermost thought, a lyric or a verse.

Love. All kinds: a mother’s love, friend love, passionate, head-over-heels in love, idolatry, paternal love, mentor love, unrequited love. A grandparent’s love! Love for a pet. Perhaps most importantly, love of Self.

Order. I like when life has a plan, a logical sequence, a symmetry, even when there doesn’t seem to be any apparent sense to it (the challenge and reward is in the discovery of meaning where you thought there was none). On a simpler level, I love neatness and polish of style, whether it be fashion, decorating, or artistic expression.

Work. Ordinary ol’ hard work, the only way to get anything done. The idea of purpose and direction in your life, and not just something you do for yourself but for everyone around you. Getting in there and rolling up your sleeves, getting good and dirty, immersing yourself in a job for no other reason than it just feels good to do so.

The joy of cooking. The planning, the preparation, and the patience required to turn out a delicious meal. Excellent therapy for giving you focus. It can also teach you how to be more resourceful with what is on hand. All you need is inspiration, imagination, and a few dozen cookbooks!

Music. All kinds of music that is good. This includes anything that makes you want to dance and sing, no matter how silly a ditty it is. Food for the soul and spirit.

Tales of the sea. Shipwrecks, near tragedies, heroism by ordinary mortals in extraordinary circumstances. Stories of Newfoundlanders who overcame hardship as they tried to eke out a living from the sea.

Heroism in everyday life: a man who gives of himself generously to those in need, with no thought of recompense; a person coming to the rescue of someone in great emotional pain; the woman who raises a family without a father in the picture (and does it well); the bravery of someone battling an illness or condition; dying with dignity.

Books…old, dusty tomes with dog-eared pages, brand new paperbacks, the smell of ink inside, stories written before I was born, colourful, well-written fiction of today, non-fiction that inspires while it helps explain the world and our place in it. I was a devout bookworm growing up; my best friends lived inside the pages, and I hated saying good-bye to them at the end. Racing to finish that book you can’t put down, savouring every word, but hating its completion. I would love to write a book like that. That is my goal.