Grates Cove

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.

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Entering Grates Cove
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View from the walking trail running along the cliffs and barrens
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This little community is the most northerly one on the Avalon Peninsula, and is my mother’s hometown.

Mom as a schoolgirl
Mom as a schoolgirl
Mom, out and about  ;)
Mom, out and about 😉

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)

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Beautiful day on Saturday
– jenniferkellandperry.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.

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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?

“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