when life gives you raindrops

Finally, a reason to be excited about all this rain!

A citizens' rainfall network! Buy a rain gauge for 8$ at the hardware store. Put it in the ground as far from trees as possible. Each day, read the measurement, then dump out the water. Email your results to Bill Danielson. Feel like both a Real Scientist, and an Active Citizen.

It's part of an exhibit happening this summer at the North Highlands Community Museum, called "Cape Breton Weather, Cape Breton Lives." If you live in Cape Breton and want to take part, email Bill - downspill@gmail.com.

hen party

The adventures never stop around here. Fresh off the heels of my last house-sit, I was asked by a friend of I would house-sit for her, for a month and a half, at her house which is a 45-min drive from my work. I'd have to take care of chickens, a rabbit and a cat, as well as use a woodstove to heat the house.

Of course, I jumped at the chance. "Yes!" I wrote back as soon as I got her email.

Oh and I have to use the Englishtown Ferry to get to and from work, every day. (This is it the other night, when I was waiting on the Englishtown side for it to come back over. I loved how the lights were reflecting off the water, and the evening was coming on.)

This is the view from my new bedroom. The Cape Breton Highlands in the background, still covered in snow. Mm hmm.

Eggs wait by the front door. Every morning I collect between four and six eggs, and I let them pile up before I wash them.

When going to the barn to check on the chickens, you've got to unhook this latch.

There's just something about latches, isn't there?

 In Australia they call them "chooks". Wait, that might be the chicks. I don't know. Anyway, I love their clucking sounds.

 Doing dishes, I put down this dishcloth to put drying dishes on. More chickens!

 

 

Four to six eggs a day adds up pretty fast, especially when I'm away all day working and get back in the evenings and just eat toast and yogurt, and go to bed so I can do it all again the next day. Come the weekend, it's time to wash eggs, and I find myself with two dozen. There's just something about the shape of eggs, isn't there? So beautiful, especially in the grey winter light coming in the window over the sink.

"it's coming on Christmas, they're cutting down trees"

Flossie and I decorated the marina store for Christmas. A mixture of old decorations (like this bell with lights) and new ones that I got at Home Hardware. I realized as I was getting them that I've never actually bought Christmas decorations before. My family has only ever used ones we've had - it feels like - forever.

This is the front of the store. At 4:30 PM. Our artificial tree - which, in the dark, looks just as good as a real one. I kind of get why people use artificial trees, now.

Last weekend I had to go to Iona for a meeting. (I'm a member of the Board of Directors for the Bras D'Or Lakes Stewardship Society.) Of course I took my camera along. Above: the Little Narrows ferry.

After the meeting, which was in a boardroom at the Highland Village, I jumped a fence and went walking around the musuem. It's a recreated village from the 1800's, built on a hill overlooking one of the Bras d'Or Lakes. The sun was just setting.

The church, by the way, used to be in a community across the lake called Malagawatch. I remember being in Australia a hundred years ago - OK, maybe it was just seven - and reading an international news item about a church being brought on a float along a lake, and it turned out to be home in Cape Breton. And now it sits on top of the hill looking out.

Driving back I went over Washabuck mountain. The road is falling apart, it's more patches than original pavement. It was getting dark and I felt lonely. I saw driveways to summer homes that are empty at this time of year. I saw houses with people in them but wondered - are they all old people? Where are the young people? It feels, sometimes, like everyone here is just one decision away from pulling up roots and heading out West. Then the whole island would be a relic, a historical museum.

Then, last week I started taking a walk on my lunch break. Around Water Street and then up by the Co-Op. I take my camera with me then, too. Partly so I can keep track of the time, and partly to take random pictures. Above: the lighthouse and Beinn Bhreagh mountain behind it. (That's where Alexander Graham Bell used to live.)

This is taken from pretty much the same place, just looking more to the left. This is the wee village of Baddeck. At least, the waterfront portion of it.

Wood and lines. A piece of driftwood up against a building. Telephone wire and a pole, and trees. And a close-up of another telephone pole. I like the texture of the wood, the staples, the rusty nail. The colors - bleached white, browns, dark brown. The knot. Even in a town that goes to some lengths to appear smooth and quaint and perfect, there is texture, age, lines. Rot and change and industry. And that's OK too.

a horse on top of a horse

Well, I did it! I drove to Halifax. (This is not my car. The black on the bottom right, is my car.) We were stopped for construction for the fourth time - no joke - and noticed there was a rainbow in the rearview mirror.

At Antigonish we turned down onto the Eastern Shore route, and went through Sherbrooke. As I was driving, my friend Mel was in charge of taking pictures.

In Sherbrooke we stopped to eat lunch. There in a tiny cafe in a tiny town, was a girl I had gone to High School with. Just an hour before, driving along and talking, Mel and I were talking about High School, about prom and graduation. And then there was Genevieve, who I hadn't seen in about seven years. She lives there now. It was neat to catch up, to sit with someone I used to see every day. The past doesn't stay static, people continue to live and grow.

(There was a little bridge across a little brook - which I called the "Sure, Brook" even though it very likely wasn't. And I liked the colors. They are the colors I wear a lot - bright blues and pinks.)

The drive along the Eastern Shore was beautiful. Lots of little coves and islands. I had to pull over to take a picture, just to remember it. So we wouldn't just pass it by with our talking and music and driving along.

A place we stopped for gas. I liked the sign and the clouds behind.

The view from our hotel room. The busy intersection of Robie, Quinpool, Bell and Cogswell roads/streets. And I made it through! Despite arriving at rush hour - good planning there! - with a good navigator (Mel with the map) it seems anything is possible.

 The ceiling of a Chinese restaurant where we went to eat before the concert.

You weren't supposed to take pictures during the performance, so I shut the flash off and snuck a couple. They're blurry but that's OK. This is Michael Kaeshammer with his band. I didn't get any of Jill Barber. The whole show was - jazzy, on time, snappy, sparkly, beautiful rhythms and music. I must have whispered to Mel twenty times - I love this! or I'm in love!

On the walk back, Mel's new, cute shoes hurt her feet. She took them off and walked in her sock feet. It was cold but clear. This is our hotel, the Atlantica. I love the geometry and the pattern of light of windows in a big building, at night.

The next morning we set out walking. The wall waved to us.

At Cora's on Dresden Row, massive breakfast waited. I got a crepe filled with fruit and chocolate/hazelnut spread. Oh my my. From eleven am, I was full until roughly 4 or 5 pm.

Wandering around the downtown. So much public art, so little time. This is in honor of the direction my life has taken me with my latest employment.

Freak Lunchbox is a candy store on Barrington Street. (Visit their website, if nothing else, for the hip hop music that plays.) We went in. Color, smells of sugar, and so many different kinds of candy. This is a display of jellybeans.

Have I mentioned how much I love graffiti and public art? I just really do. Bringing color and verve and ideas to a public space. Something so great about that. I also love taking people's portraits up against colorful and neat walls. I wasn't going to post this - I'm feeling rather self-conscious these days - but then I thought - what the hell. I could die tomorrow. What does it REALLY matter? And, you all get to see my pink coat in all its glory.

Love, Me Boutique. They have all handmade stuff. This is a display of keys that is not for sale, but just for beauty. I kind of really like it.

Felt bangles bought from Love, Me. I'm wearing them as I type. They're so wintery, so "snuggle up and get cozy." They're lying on a merino wool tank top I bought at MEC for doing yoga in. I was sick of wearing either a too-tight old workout top from years ago, or a baggy tee shirt that either rode up or got too hot, or both. So I treated myself to some workout gear that fits, and looks good.

And we came back to this. To winter. On the drive home, as we got closer and closer to Cape Breton, there was more and more snow on the roadsides. And then once we were home it snowed some more. Today it's snowing again - and I'm resolving to love it. I didn't at first - grumpy me came to the surface and grumped about having to worry about the weather, having to clear off the car, et cetera. And I took it seriously until a few days had gone by and I realized, Nah, that's no fun. Better to grump a little bit, then look at the snow falling and rejoice. Re-find joy.

The often-photographed lighthouse of my hometown. And a big fat icicle that for once gets to be bigger than a lighthouse.

***

I've been reading "Long Quiet Highway" by Natalie Goldberg, she of "Writing Down the Bones," possibly the best book about writing out there. "Long Quiet Highway" is her memoir. It's also really good. In it she talks about Zen Buddhism, and her teachers. One of them said something about not complicating things. "Don't put a horse on top of a horse," he says, "and then try to ride it."

It makes so much sense. And it's something I do all the time, put that horse on top of another horse. Complicate things. Well, I'm resolving to take the horse down. Just have the one.

***

A blog I'm reading these days is Emily Falconbridge. She's a cool Aussie chick with long dreads and a beautiful family of three kids and a husband. Right now they live in New England. She has an Etsy shop with felted materials, and she writes about art, her kids, her adventures, her feelings. Her kids' names are Ivy, Banjo and Yindi. Doesn't that make you want to find out more? Her blog and her family have won over my heart with their sweetness, their simple beauty, their take on life.

slushy rain and sushi in Sydney

Last weekend I headed for North River. The same people who put together the fabulous writers' festival, partnered with Cape Breton University and offered a workshop. A way to get the university out into the community. Six hours of writing. Thirty dollars. A professor to talk about narrative and short stories and beginnings. 10 am on a Saturday. I'm not a fan of giving up my free time but this seemed a no-brainer.

It's a thirty minute drive but there's construction on the way. I gave myself lots of time and ended up being early. So I was able to stop on the way, park and take some pictures and look out over the water. Think, how lucky am I. (Above is: my jeans, my pink Lole coat, my blue scarf. In dreary late Fall, I've got to have fierce colour.)

I kept going. I held the camera up as I drove. Snapped randomly, hoping it would somehow grab the beauty.

The Oregon Road. I took a short walk down it, since I was early. Thought about how many times I had walked or biked or drove down this road, heading to a piece of land, to friends, to a lover. How much that stretch of road used to mean to me. Still does mean. The friends and the lover have gone back to the US, their buildings and land no longer lived in or repaired. I've lost touch with those people - I haven't kept in touch. And unless I'm there in North River, I don't really think of them. Then I walk down the road and it's like I'm back in time. Back there again.

I really liked the way these raspberry canes by a brook looked, with green at the bottom progressing upward to yellow then red, so uniformly. Like something Andy Goldsworthy would have done on purpose, yet here it just was.

In the hall, coffee was on. We filled mugs and sat around a big table. Do not forget that though you may be discussing prose, imagery, symbolism here in this hall, it is also used for darts. For other community gatherings. And they are no less meaningful. Useful.

(The hall is also used for Bingo.)

Driving home in the slushy rain with so much to think about. Stopped for the ever-loving construction. I love the way headlights and streetlights look through a rain-covered windshield.

Boats up on stands. This gravel was used as a parking lot all summer. Now it is storage. The boats people came to float away on, now hauled in and put on jack-stands. Supported, settling in for winter.

Another day this week I drove to Sydney. Coming over Kelly's Mountain there was some rain, edging towards snow. I stopped at the lookoff, I had to, there was this massive cloud over the Seal Island Bridge. This above is what you saw looking to your left. Then below is what was to the right.

Driving into Sydney on Kings Road, a sign advertised sushi. "Oki Maka Sushi, 196 Charlotte St." What?!? Sushi in Sydney? What I've wanted for so long? I've got to check this out. I decided I would  look for it after my appointment.

Walking into the building where my appointment was, I saw this graffiti. Close enough, I thought. Looks like today is sushi day.

And so I found them. With an hour to spare before they closed. I think I'll probably end up doing a whole post about them - I took more pictures than this. Overall it was good, a little on the bland side but fresh. I liked the spicy salmon roll the best, I suppose because it had the most flavor. But honestly? I was really happy just to be IN a sushi restaurant, on Cape Breton Island. Smelling pickled ginger and soy sauce.

Back to work. The calendar here at work - with the lovely typography, you remember - has this image for November. I think it fits - as dreary as it is, because hey, November IS dreary! Some dude out shooting with his dogs. The leaves off the trees. The sky grey. I can almost hear the lonely singular sound of the gunshot. Then grey silence.

The tree under which I park my car. Look up, look way up. This is November. Already, here it is, the second last month. We get ready to fall back an hour - I don't know if I'll ever entirely understand Daylight Savings, but whatever - and keep on falling, falling into winter. Falling in love with our own projects. Our own faults and flaws. Nature changes and time relentlessly moves forward and so with it, do we.