The Launch included an introduction and bio, a short author reading of an excerpt from Calmer Girls, question period, and sale and signing of books.
I wish to bestow a huge thank-you to everyone who took time out of their Saturday to attend. It meant the world to me. Several of you even drove from out of town to be there, and for that I am forever grateful. ❤
I also wish to thank Jewel S. Cousens, B.A., M.L.S., NL Librarian with the A.C. Hunter Public Library, Arts & Culture Centre, for all of her valuable assistance, as well as her insight and suggestions for future promotions. Ms. Cousens was happy to tell us that interest in Newfoundland and Labrador books has grown in recent years and continues to grow.
Special appreciation to my husband and family for everything you did to make this past weekend one I will never forget.
I hope you enjoy the photos and the slide show I’ve shared below.
Reading Intent Listeners 🙂Answering QuestionsSigning BooksCatching up after the Launch with a Scotiabank bud!
“Daily Post Prompt: Never Again – Have you ever gone to a new place or tried a new experience and thought to yourself, “I’m never doing that again!” Tell us about it.”
“Copying pans*” in Tilting, NL – Newfoundland Webbers Facebook Page -photo credit: Paddy Barry
On Saturday, I saw this photo on Facebook that brought back a memory for me. Also on that day, I read the above prompt from the Daily Post. So I couldn’t resist sharing said event from my childhood.
My friend Nancy, my younger sister Lynn and I were walking home from school one late afternoon in St. John’s, when we noticed from the Boulevard the many ice pans on the surface of Quidi Vidi Lake. I think it might have been spring thaw.
Quidi Vidi in summer…and winter
Quicker than you can say “last one in is a rotten egg,” the three of us ran down to the lake’s edge, dropped our book-bags on the shore, and proceeded to jump from ice pan to ice pan across the surface of the deep water. Not once did either of us think anything could go wrong. I guess we were so young and naive, we had no fear of the risk we were taking.
Luckily, Nancy’s father happened to drive along the Boulevard while we were playing there. Before we knew it, we were swiftly ordered into his car and driven home. At the time, we didn’t feel so lucky, but I shudder at the thought of what could have gone down if he hadn’t. Perhaps all of us!
Of course, our parents were outraged and we all received our punishment. The next time I saw my friend Nancy, she told me that her father gave her a good spanking.
“And that was it?” I asked, incredulous. My parents didn’t give spankings as discipline. They knew what really hurt: grounding my sister and me for a full week. No outdoors for seven days except to go to school.
I remember thinking at the time that Nancy had gotten off easy compared to us. Yes, she’d endured a spanking, but at least her suffering was “behind” her. 😉
Now I realize Mom and Dad had wanted us to appreciate how dangerous our activity was, by giving us a whole week to think about it. Never again did we dare to risk drowning by “copying pans.”
*copy: To jump from one floating pan of ice to another in a children’s game of following or copying a leader when the ice is breaking up in spring in a cove or harbour. A game of follow-my-leader over the broken ice, every cake of which, it may be, sinks under the weight of a lad. It is a training for the perilous work of seal hunting, which came later in the life of Newfoundlanders. You will see the merry young lads ‘copying’ as they call it—jumping from pan to pan till far out in the Cove in fearless rivalry. ~ Dictionary of Newfoundland English
Did you ever jump on ice pans when you were a kid?
Have you ever done something new and regretted it?
Vivian K. Perry here, to tell you all about the
snowstorm forecast for most of the island of Newfoundland tonight and tomorrow.
We’re well acquainted with winter storms in this neck of the woods, but I think we are in for a mother of a blizzard this time, with 30 to 50 centimeters and high winds promised for central, and for us, before it’s all over!
Here are Maisie and I, first this morning, and second, how we will weather the storm:
Besides all of this, there is still work to be done. Please watch this little video clip below of me in Paul’s office. He puts me in a bed on top of his printer when I get lonely for his company. Be sure to turn up your volume so you can hear me purr.
Stay warm and see you all next time after we dig out!
Hey, Newfoundlanders! I’ve added a brand new page for you and for anyone who wants to take a look around our beautiful province. There you will find my local posts in easy-to-find links. Click the Link below or where it says Newfoundland and Labrador on the right of my menu banner above. (About Jennifer, Home, Categories, Newfoundland and Labrador)
This page will be updated as new local posts are added.
Please scroll to the bottom for Newtown posts.
You’ve probably noticed I’ve changed the theme to my blog since last time. As they say, a change is as good as a rest! I’ve been looking for a new look, but I also wanted to let you know that my journal will have a dual purpose soon: as my author website as well as my usual blog. I’ve ponied up with a new domain and lost the ‘wordpress’ so now my address is jenniferkellandperry.com. Stay tuned for news on my young adult novel Calmer Girls in the coming days.
Greetings and meows, dear peeps and pets! Maisie here, guest hosting on Jennifer’s blog today.
Townie Cats
I thought it was high time I shared a little “cat tale” with you from five years back.
It was the Fall of 2010 and my sister Vivian and I, both three years old, had recently moved around the bay to Newtown with Jennifer and Paul. Up until then, we’d been raised as indoor city cats who rarely went outside unless it was in the backyard under vigilant watch by our owners.
backyard fun
While our soon-to-be permanent home on Perry’s Point was undergoing restoration and renovations, our little family had to bide our time in Mike Perry’s summer-house over near Barbour Tickle. As the weeks passed and our owners grew eager and impatient to move to the Point, they told us that once we got there, we would have the freedom to roam the area and come and go as we wished. Could such an incredible dream actually come true for a couple of city-dwelling felines like us?
hanging out at Mike’s
One sunny afternoon, Jennifer and Paul let us outside in Mike’s garden to stretch our legs. They stayed with us as we explored the bank of the Tickle and were pleased that we didn’t try to wander away. So the next day they let us out again. This time however, they didn’t keep such a close eye on us and that’s where the trouble started.
When they decided to let us back inside, lo and behold, they only found one cat: yours truly. My sister Vivian had disappeared. I watched through the window as they called and called to my wayward sibling, but to no avail. As the day passed into evening, their worry grew more and more palpable.
Jennifer and Paul went off to search the neighbourhood. They found no sign of her. When she still hadn’t returned by the next morning, they became frantic, and took off to search for her again, singing out Vivian’s name until their voices grew hoarse. Later, to Jennifer’s horror, Paul found a ragged strip of fur on the bank of the Tickle that looked a lot like Vivian’s striped tail. Now it appeared that foul play might be involved. Had a dog attacked her? Or a rabid mink? Terror and grief filled our hearts at the possibility.
Jennifer was devastated. I heard her say they were stupid to let us outside, that she hated Newtown, and she wished we had never moved at all. I did what I could to console her and Paul, but even though I stepped up the affection it didn’t seem to help. I missed Vivian too and roamed from room to room, mewing my tiny mew. This was also the time I started the practice of sitting up in a kitchen chair and resting my chin on the table. In this pose I would gaze with sadness at my grieving owners, wishing there was something I could do.
The days and nights dragged by, the temperatures turned colder, and our hopes grew dimmer. Halloween came and went. Someone said they saw a cat that matched Vivian’s description way out on the branch road. Hope flared that she was still alive, but searches proved fruitless. Jennifer kept going out for walks, calling Viv’s name, but these investigations usually ended in tears. That strip of fur was the evidence that maybe she wasreally dead gone over that rainbow bridge after all.
where Vivian played until she went missing
Nineteen days had passed. I have to admit at this point I gave up hope. What is a kitty to do?
It was November 12th. Jennifer and Paul were watching the evening news, when we all heard a distinct “meow” coming from outside the window. Jennifer bolted from the couch and ran to the front door. Paul said, “It can’t be Vivian!”
When Jennifer swung the door open, she told us later she was afraid of what she might see. A strange cat? Vivian with her tail missing?
But in waltzed Vivian, her white fur grey with dirt, her tail intact. She cried and cried, her feeble meows filling the house. I went over to smell her. She didn’t smell like my sister and I hissed at her as if she was a stranger. But our owners were overjoyed. Their missing kitty came back after almost three weeks!!
“We thought she was a goner, but the cat came back, she just couldn’t stay away!”
She’d lost weight, was hungry and thirsty, but otherwise fine. She stank of wood smoke, so we think she might have kept warm under someone’s shed with a wood stove or had been barred in. Paul gave her a sponge bath in the tub while she purred the entire time. She barely left his side for the next 24 hours. She was so weak, she could only eat small amounts of food until she regained her strength after many days.
Needless to say, we didn’t get to go outdoors anymore, not until we finally moved to Perry’s Point. By then it was winter, so we didn’t want to stay out at all because of the cold and the unfamiliar roar of the ocean and the howl of the wind. By the time Spring arrived, the nightmare of Vivian’s disappearance was a distant memory and we began our outside adventures that to this day have been pleasantly uneventful.
Happily, Jennifer went back to liking Newtown. I don’t think Vivian ever forgot her ordeal because she’s never dared to stray far from home again. We think as well that the terrible experience is what has made her a much needier cat than I.
As for that ragged strip of fur, well, to this day it remains a mystery.
Ron Hynes lost his battle with cancer yesterday, but the St. John’s native and the “man of a thousand songs” will be remembered in this province as one of our best and most talented singer-songwriters.
I’ve loved Ron’s music ever since he performed as front man with the Wonderful Grand Band on a local early-80’s TV show. But when I saw him sing and play at the Fat Cat on George Street one night in the early nineties, I knew he would be an enduring musical storyteller and an artistic treasure.
Sonny’s Dream, his most famous song internationally, has been recorded by many artists such as Valdy and Emmy Lou Harris. Have a listen:
As much as I love that song, the following is perhaps my personal favourite. The lyrics alone, in my opinion, elevate its author Ron to the deserving title of our finest wordsmith and poet.
St. John’s Harbour
St. John’s Waltz
by Ron Hynes
Oh the harbour lights are gleaming
And the evening’s still and dark
And the seagulls are all dreaming
Seagull dreams on Amherst Rock
And the mist is slowly drifting
As the storefront lights go dim
And the moon is gently lifting
As the last ship’s coming in
All the sailors got a story
Some are true, some are false
But they’re always wrecked
and they’re up on the deck
Dancin’ the St. John’s Waltz
Fort Amherst (Amherst Rock) Jennifer’s Journal
Oh we’ve had out share of history
We’ve seen nations come and go
We’ve seen battles rage over land and stage
Four hundred years and more
For glory or for freedom
For country or for king
Or for money or fame but there are no names
On the graves where men lie sleeping
All the nine to fives survive the day
With a sigh and a dose of salts
And they’re parkin’ their cars and packin’ the bars
Dancin’ the St. John’s Waltz
Oh my heart is on the highway
And I’m sold on goin’ to sea
All the planes fill the skyway
The trains run swift and free
So leave the wayward free to wander
Leave the restless free to roam
If it’s rocks in the bay or it’s old cliche
You’ll find your way back home
So don’t question or inquire
What’s been gained, what’s been lost
In a world of romance don’t miss out on the chance
To be Dancin’ the St. John’s Waltz
Rest in peace, Mr. Hynes.
Your music will continue to live on through our playlists and in our hearts.
Because I have roots in Grates Cove, a little beluga whale has been all over my Facebook feed lately. That is where I recently discovered Jaredthrough his Beluga At My Doorstep post.
His blog, Bird⋅the⋅Rock, specializes in bird & nature tours in Newfoundland.
From the blog’s About page:
Jared Clarke is a native Newfoundlander who grew up on the northeast coast of the island and was introduced to the outdoors at a very young age – mostly by his grandfathers…Despite his “official” training as a health researcher (PhD Medicine), his love of nature and sharing it with others has consistently led him astray. Jared has led tours big and small across Newfoundland; from historic St. John’s to the ancient Viking settlement of L’Anse aux Meadows on the northern tip of the island and many points in between.
Check out the beautiful photos Jared captured in the link below. There’s even a short video of the whale:
What moves an artist to draw or to paint a picture? What sparks the passion in a writer to pen a poem or a story? What is it that prompts a photographer to run for her camera and try to capture that perfect shot?
Here are a few things that give me continued inspiration:
1. The ocean, which surrounds me… (No surprise there, right? 😉 )
Every day, it is a slightly different colour, morphing between shades of blue sapphire, steel grey, or deep, dark navy with racing waves and frothy white-caps. On other days, it is as calm and flat as a mirror.The sea is a living thing: mercurial, organic, merciless, and endlessly beautiful. 2. I’ve always had a passion for all animals (no, not just my cats! 😉 ).
Horses, dogs, whales, and birds… …natural beings of the forest and untamed creatures of the sea and sky.
3. My granddaughter inspires me with her sunny smile, her boundless energy and curiosity, and her sweet innocent, loving heart.
4. My grandson inspires me with those impossibly long eyelashes, his sense of humour, his quick wit, and his infectious laughter (even when he teases his crinkly Nanny).5.Teaching children about Nature, and why we need to respect it, appreciate it and care for it is a spark for my imagination. I love answering their many questions…… and listening to them tell of their own experiences in the beautiful, natural world.
*
Have you ever noticed how Children and Nature go so happily together?
“Children are born naturalists. They explore the world with all of their senses, experiment in the environment, and communicate their discoveries to those around them.” ~ Audubon Nature Preschool
“As a child, one has that magical capacity to move among the many eras of the earth; to see the land as an animal does; to experience the sky from the perspective of a flower or a bee; to feel the earth quiver and breathe beneath us..” ~ Valerie Andrews, A Passion for this Earth
Do you have special childhood memories of exploring Nature?
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.
***
***
Have you lived to see a dream come to fruition? Or are you working on one for the future?
When my husband Paul was six years old, he and his family moved from Newtown – the little community in which we live now – to live in the capital city of St. John’s. Their parents relocated so that Paul’s oldest sibling David could attend the Vera Perlin school for his special needs.
On the day of the big move, Paul crawled up under the house – the actual house we live in now – in a show of protest. “Everyone should be able to live where they were born,” he argued through tears, but the die had been cast. He was pulled out and packed into the car with everyone else.
On the very first day at their new school, Paul and his other brother Kevin, who is one year older, decided to walk home from school for lunch, despite being told to stay there and eat the lunch they’d brought. But when they saw other children going home, they wanted to go as well. Unfamiliar with their new neighbourhood, the two boys got lost, and Kevin started to cry.
Brave little Paul tried his best to console his big brother by distracting him. “Don’t cry, Kev. Look at the pigeons,” he said, pointing at a bunch of them as they waddled across the sidewalk, hoping the strange, tame city birds might cheer him up. It worked, and they ended up following a classmate to his house. Between the jigs and the reels, their dad had to leave work and go pick them up.
Let’s go back a couple of years when Paul was four and Kevin was five, to another time the younger boy displayed his wisdom. A new addition to the family of three boys had arrived, and this time, it was a girl! When their mom brought baby Julie Ann home, the boys crowded around to get a look at their new sister. Kevin’s eyes opened wide when her diaper came off to be changed. “Look, Paul,” he said, incredulous. “She ain’t got nar topper!” (penis)
“No, ya foolish,” Paul said, enlightened beyond his years. “She got whatever Mom got.”
Now before you think I’m beating up on my brother-in-law, I’d like to share one more tale. Okay, two. When Paul was about nine and enjoying his summer vacation in Newtown, Kevin saved him from drowning. Paul was diving with some other boys off of Burnt Island, but he tired in the deep water and panicked. Kevin grabbed him by the hair on top of his head and pulled him to safety.
Years later, when Kevin was just beginning his teaching career, he and Paul were driving along in St. John’s one evening. Without warning, Kevin pulled over, stopped the car, and jumped out. He’d spied two teenage boys in a fist fight near the local hockey rink, and he wanted to stop them. Paul watched as he parted the boys, reasoned with them, and ended the scuffle.
It was a day he never forgot. Where most people would just keep going and not get involved, Kevin stepped in and tried to solve the problem. It made Paul really proud of his brother.
Paul confessed there were other boyhood fights where Kev stepped in and rescued Paul himself, fights my husband started and couldn’t finish. I would say he’s grateful for those too. And so am I. 🙂
L to R: David, Paul, Julie, and KevinThirteen-year-old Paul
Every day, it is a slightly different colour, morphing between shades of blue sapphire, steel grey, or deep, dark navy with racing waves and frothy white-caps. On other days, it is as calm and flat as a mirror.
The sea is a living thing: mercurial, organic, merciless, and endlessly beautiful.
2. I’ve always had a passion for all animals (no, not just my cats! 😉 ).
…natural beings of the forest and untamed creatures of the sea and sky.
4. My grandson inspires me with those impossibly long eyelashes, his sense of humour, his quick wit, and his infectious laughter (even when he teases his crinkly Nanny).
5. Teaching children about Nature, and why we need to respect it, appreciate it and care for it is a spark for my imagination. I love answering their many questions…
… and listening to them tell of their own experiences in the beautiful, natural world.
Jennifer's Journal 