comfort and joy

This is an ornament that my grandmother sent us in the mail. Mum hung it on the banister by the stairs, next to the only Christmas lights we have up so far (and possibly the only ones we WILL have - it seems we're all too busy and/or burned out to get the whole "tree" thing happening). I really like the way it reflects the lights. And I like this shot above, even though it's blurry. Maybe even because it's blurry. Life's not perfect. It's far from it. It's messy and hard and uncontrollable. Yet here we are.

Also, after spending a few minutes photographing it last night, I realized it looks a bit like an angel - the rays coming out from the candle like the wings.

There was a huge rain-and-wind storm earlier this week. The middle of the country got a dump of snow, and we got a dump of rain, and winds about as strong as when Hurricane Earl blew through in September. The power went out and so Tuesday morning I got to make my breakfast by the light of a kerosene lamp.

This is the pot of oatmeal simmering away on the propane stove. That blue light, so comforting.

Another day - it may have been Sunday - I was outside. Taking pictures of the birdfeeder. I stood still long enough that the birds starting coming around me. THRUP. THRUP. The constant "thrupping" of their wings as they moved from branch to branch, getting ever closer to the bird feeder and to me, was so loud! I felt surrounded by the birds, the sound of them moving, their little chirps and "chick-a-dee-dee"s. None of the pictures were amazing, crystal-clear or centered, but I liked this one. Lifting off the branch, flying.

I love a light dusting of snow.

This was my car this morning - the frost patterns on the roof. So beautiful. It would take a person so long to draw something this intricate, yet it just happened. Water meets cold.

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.

go! stop, go, stop, go, stop, GO

OK, so here we are. The first picture I took with my camera after getting it back last week. It's a phenomenal shot of... the battery charger. And lo! the camera still works!

Orchids in bloom in our living room. Mum does virtually nothing to encourage their growth. None of this hothouse pampering BS. She waters them and that's it. And they grow, and bloom, every year. Just goes to show you. Not sure what it shows you, but it shows you something.

Oh, yeah... ice, ice BABY. Sometimes I even listen to this, on my way to work. (My car only has a tape player. I got this "vintage" cassette tape at Value Village for one dollar. It's almost worth that much.) (Actually, the amount of laughs Mat and I have gotten from it driving to work in the mornings is priceless. As is Mr. Ice's haircut and clothing.)

Blue sky. Oh my my.

Plus there's something about power lines I really like.

Lupins. These flowers bloom this time of year, and the banks and ditches of the roads bristle with their purple plump sweetness. Have you ever heard of the kids' book "The Lupin Lady"? If not, you should look for it.

Good Lord, I love my job. I think this all the time, as I'm running from place to place in the marina. I love my job, wow do I ever love my job. (This above is the view from the bench where I take my breaks. That is my car parked with those two boats.) (And the yellow house behind is a Bed and Breakfast run by a really sweet lady.)

This is looking the other way from the break area.

I love my job, I love my job.

And this is taken from out on the docks, looking back towards the building. That red building is where I spend most of my time these days!

I was looking up a phone number the other day (to figure out what time Buffy Ste-Marie is playing this weekend) and I just love that there is a Bingo hotline. Seriously! I kind of want to call it, just to see what happens.

I tried making coconut sorbet, from a recipe I got from Haya. (Her blog is in my link list to the right. I'm too lazy to make a link here.) This is the coconut milk waiting to be added to the sugar/water syrup. Then you end up freezing it. It was good - so rich and sweet!


My feet and my Mum's feet.

The pool that saved my sanity in the winter.

I kind of want to make a pun, something like "Don't go off the deep end, come jump off our deep end!"

Eh?


In Cape Breton, when there are three signs saying there's a bump ahead, you better slow the heck down or else you might lose your muffler or your oilpan!

And this is where my camera stopped working, again. (A friend's place down in Tarbot. Isn't this kind of the most idyllic summertime photo? A hammock, a tidy garden beyond, and sunlight on meadow grass.)

So yeah - the camera is having a hissy fit. The battery door, newly replaced, works fine. But now when I turn the camera on, it doesn't actually turn on. The lens moves outward but nothing shows on the screen. I press the button again to close it but it doesn't close, it just moves inward all of 1/16th of an inch. Each time I press the on/off button it moves either in or out, depending on its own whim. Well, that's what I'm going with, that or it might be possessed by the devil, because I can't figure out what's causing it to behave this way!

And so I'm now in the position of trying to decide if I want to bother getting it figured out and fixed, or if I want to buy a new camera, or if I just want to sit and wait for a little bit longer.

Good thing I have things like a great book ("The Time Traveller's Wife," OMG), great music (acquired recently: new albums by Sade, Gorillaz, Royal Wood, Imogen Heap, David Gray), and lots of work and extracurriculars to keep me distracted from camera frustrations. And I'm even writing creatively on a regular basis! The trick: form a small group with other people who similarly need to be forced to write, then give yourselves creative prompts and deadlines. Mercilessly tease anyone who doesn't make the deadline. Make time in your schedule to prepare and to write. (And in making that time, I realized that it's unbelievable how important some things can seem, and how unimportant they really are, in the end. Just - little errands and things I felt I really HAD to be doing, but then you don't do them, and - the world doesn't end. Fancy that!)

Anyway. Enough of my blathering for now. Hurray that I could take pictures for four days! And share them here! Poo on camera busting again! But that's OK because life's busy enough as it is. And not having a camera is honing other sides to my eyes. To the way I experience a moment. To the way I think - Hey, I'm actually here, right now. This moment. Won't ever be again. I think I'll pay attention.

kitchen party

Last night I was thinking about Otis Redding. I was also listening to him, to his music, coming out of my brother's mp3 player and my speakers. Otis Redding is damn good kitchen music, you know that?

I was cooking. Supper for my brother and I, and lunch for the next day, also for the two of us. It's easier that way, actually, to cook enough that you can share it, and then eat it again the next day. I was having a little kitchen party, Otis Redding, the onions, and me.

Food is where I can let go of the stress of the day. At least, when I remember that it can be that way, and not get stressed about the fact that I just got home from a FULL day of work, and I really don't want to cook. When I remember that I can turn on some really amazing soul music, have the kitchen to myself, and slice slowly. Dance around. Let my mind wander.

These days are the kind where there actually IS more planned than you can actually do - and you kind of go from one thought/planned thing/thing you want to do, to the next, optimistically thinking "oh that will get done" and at the same time thinking "how on earth is that going to get done?"

Then back to cooking - slicing the onions, in delicate yet strong rounds, rings, cooking in olive oil, then adding cabbage. Red peppers from the freezer, the color a punch in the face. The whole thing reassuringly hissing, sizzling, letting off steam in the cast-iron pan.

This is going to be or already is a stream- of-consciousness post - kind of the way life is right now. Writing down what comes into my mind as it comes. Dressing it up slightly, after the fact. Presenting it on a plate, to you.

These days (this past week, this past month, yesterday) I have an overstimulated mind but I'm also kind of liking that, maybe addicted to it? I woke up last night a few times, my brain a frenzy from thoughts about work - where I will put the Viking coats we just ordered, what I might do with the quarterly newsletter I've taken on writing for the company, and also picking my nose in my sleep. Picking my nose is how I relax - and I woke up doing it! WTF?!

(Funnily enough - these dreams were not STRESSFUL so much as just constant. I used to have dreams when I waitressed, and those dreams were hella stressful. I would be half-naked and having to serve people. Not good. No, these dreams are more like my brain is going, Well, we still have stuff to do, so we're going to do it while you're sleeping, ummkay?)

Fertility and creativity - big time right now - that sense of overabundance, that there are more impulses and possibles than you have room in the garden bed for. Every plant eventually dies - and to have a productive garden you have to weed.

Maybe it's the Internet's fault - everything is just a click away - or so it feels. We click on something and if it doesn't instantly appear we get frustrated. "GAH! This link is taking TEN SECONDS to load. My life is wasting away!"

Do you ever notice holding your breath when you're online? Or breathing shallow?

The thing is, I'm not sure how to overcome this. Except for the obvious, hard, slow way of trying to be aware of it, trying to take deep breaths, trying to look away from the screen every now and then and focus on something else.

Perhaps all of this is to say that anyone who thinks life in Cape Breton for a young person is slow, boring, devoid of stuff, is DEAD WRONG. There is so much to do here and be done that I honestly wish there were two of me. Or five.

Let me clarify, too, about STRESS. I don't actually feel awful, for the large majority of the time. What's at my core is calm, is peace, is happiness and excitement about my life and where it's going, both at the micro level (today, tomorrow) and the macro (next month, next year). And I'm pretty amazed at that. It's like I dug a little bit at the topsoil on my lawn and found a solid vein of gold.

When I'm talking about stress, at least in this post, what I mean are the logistics of fitting it all in, or at least as much of "it" as I can. Activities, work, sleep, seeing friends, my extracurriculars, all of that. Trying to be conscious of each moment as it comes and passes - and not living all the time in my head, in my dayplanner's version of the future.

Creativity is an amazing thing. I suppose I could also say LIVING is an amazing thing. And both are equally hard to stay in the moment with.

Also - I went to my first-ever yoga class, and LOVED it. I'll be going back, for sure.

That's all for now. Now I must dress and be off to work. And another day. Moment by moment. Right, Otis?

morning

I want for time to stretch open like an accordion so I can fit so many more things inside.

Or maybe - time IS like an accordion - or at least, an accordion file, which I have more experience with, having never played an actual accordion - and the present moment is the file that's open. Then it gets filed away, squished up with the others, so quickly disappearing.

It's 7 am. I've been up for an hour. I'm getting used to this 6-am-rise thing, but still, for the first twenty minutes I feel like I'm still technically asleep as I get up, put on my bathrobe, go upstairs, use the washroom. Start the porridge. My eyes are puffy and blurry, I lean on things and close my eyes, like the window sill as the water comes to a boil.

I'm eating my breakfast as I type this. I type a sentence, then reach for the bowl, spoon some into my mouth, and chew as I type the next sentence. It's a sweet porridge this morning, I put dates into the boiling water before I added the oats. Then I put a spoonful of honey in the bottom of my bowl, and some cinnamon, and then put in the porridge. Some roasted sunflower seeds on top and we're done. Well, almost - milk, then stir. Then eat.


So what was I saying? Oh right, accordions. And time. Yes, time.

My new job seems to make time fly even more than it was. I'm busy from the moment I walk through the door to the moment I leave at the end of the day. I love it, too - the other day I even came back to work early from my lunch break! I found myself sitting there after I'd eaten - a delicious new veggie burger at the Highwheeler Cafe, FYI any Baddeckers in the audience - and feeling bored! And wanting to be back in the hustle and bustle of the shop. So, I went back. I rationalized it by saying that sometimes they let me go take a few minutes here or there for personal reasons, and that it all balances out. But really, I was bored and didn't want to sit somewhere for half an hour when I could get back to my projects and people.

The pictures are from the camera that lived at the house I was taking care of. My own camera is still not fixed - I won't even get into the drama - but I was able to use that one, and take a few shots while I was there. It annoyingly affixes dates to each photo, but oh well - beggars can't be choosers, right?

boat shop boot camp

One week later. Wow. Where did it go?

I feel like I'm in a kind of boot camp. I wake up at 6 am (earlier than I would normally) and am at work by 8 am, which makes me feel like I've already accomplished something, before the day even begins. The day flies by - before I know it, it's 10 am and break time, then again at noon, and again at 3. The phone is constantly ringing with different requests. It's like how it was when I first started at the library - each person who came in had a specific question, each one unique. "I need to know the oldest church in Glace Bay." "Can you get me the Chronicle Herald for June 5th, 2009?" "Do you have any books on lobsters, for kids, for my son's school project?"

The difference here is, at least at the library I knew what books were, and fiction and non-fiction, and so on. Here - it's like they're speaking another language. Customers say the name of the part they need and they seriously might as well be speaking Greek. "4-stroke engine." "Clevis pin." "Retainer ring." "Cotter pin." "Such-and-such spark plug." To me, they're interesting words, sure, but no picture forms in my head of what the word might mean. Nothing - it's just blank. Mind you, it's STARTING to happen - the few parts and products I've worked with this past week are my little safety zone, my island of knowledge. I feel so relieved when a question comes in that I can actually answer!

What amazes me is how each time a request comes in that to me sounds like "Bla bla bla, bla bla bla bla?" the guys in the workshop come out to help me and they know exactly what the person is talking about, and what questions to ask. To them, it makes sense - they have a picture in their head. Not only of what the part looks like, but what it does, where it's supposed to go (in an engine? on the end of a propeller? underneath the boat? on a mast? on a sail?), and what other parts might work instead, if we don't have this specific one.

Not only that, but then there's the behind-the-scenes part of the job. The mechanics, if you will, of running a medium-sized business, with two locations (here in Baddeck and in Dundee, an hour away) and staff, accounts, orders. There's the computer system we use to organize our inventory, and how THAT works. (It's the same kind of idea as the library software - all the pieces are listed in the system, and you have to find them, and cross-reference them, and build lists of them. But, it's a whole new system to me, and I'm learning it all. Plus, each time I use it I'm dealing with a product I'm not familiar with - see previous paragraph.) Then there's ordering from all our different vendors - some are close by, some are across the country, and I'm still just learning all about that.

So it feels like I've just been through my first week and a half of school, for some complicated subject like map-making or medicine. A kind of boot camp. When I was in university, one of my room-mates joined the Canadian Forces. In the weeks leading up to leaving, she was told by someone, If you can endure the first few weeks of boot camp, you'll be fine. And I've been thinking of that now. Get enough words and time under your belt in the new subject, and you'll build the confidence you need to learn the rest, to stay with it. You'll know you already made it through three weeks, too. Or something like that!

I should also mention that I'm really liking it - the staff I work with are fantastic, everyone is motivated, works hard, but is also friendly and goofy. We make jokes all the time. I feel supported. I feel excited about this new adventure. (Most of the time. Sometimes I'm just tired and overwhelmed.)

The feast was wonderful. I'll probably attend more of them (they hold them once a month), and then write a longer piece about them at some point in the future, but basically, it was everything I was expecting, only much better. (I suppose it was better because it was real, not just imagined.) There were sixteen people, myself included, and you didn't know until you got there who else besides your own party would be there.

There were six courses - all "taster" size, but by the end of the meal I was so full, and stimulated, and not just by food. You could bring your own wine, and the banter and conversation was a lot of fun - talking to some people you wouldn't ordinarily have sat down to dinner with. The house is a reclaimed and reworked old farmhouse, and the couple that own it have a precise but relaxed "old-style" aesthetic, if that makes sense. Example: big wide white-washed boards on the walls, mis-matched but vintage silverware and china, and reclaimed chandeliers hanging. Not to mention the tree trunks, still with a few branches, holding up the ceiling. Magical!

Today finds me sitting at the table in the house by the lake. The dog is running around outside with a stick in her mouth. The sky is overcast. I work later on at the library, but it feels kind of like a day "off" - I know my way around the library, I feel a heck of a lot more confident there than I do with marine parts.

Norah Jones' new album, The Fall, is playing. It's so good. It's like Norah is growing up, her dreamy vocals feel mature, and there is a grittier, more rock sound. Kind of how that album that Alison Krauss and Robert Plant made together sounds. And funnily enough, I feel like it matches the aesthetic I was talking about, that the chef and his wife have in their old farmhouse. Anything that's old or worn is there on purpose, and shines, despite being faded or weathered.

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moving images

Reading Kal's blog these days is a reflection, somewhat, of what's going on around here. Well - maybe only a little bit, as I'm not actually moving house, nor do I have two small children. But I can identify with the spirit of what she's going through.

Here's why: Mum left for a trip to the sunny south, and my brother and I decided to do something she'd been talking about for ages - get the carpets cleaned. (And, even though I'm writing about it on the Internet, it's actually a secret, so don't tell her. I'm banking on her not checking my blog from her vacation. However, you never know, so - hi Mom!) Despite the fact that we've put it off for years, it turned out to be fairly easy - just call the cleaners, set up a date, then move nearly everything so they can get at the carpet. It's the moving stuff BACK that's proving to be a problem.

Well, not a problem, really. I mean, we COULD have just moved it all back to the way it was, and been done with it. But, when 50% of your living and dining rooms are piled up in other rooms, and you can see the floor and the amount of space in the rooms, and you can easily move the furniture, then you can see how things COULD be. You can dream and think about how you might like to change things. I like to change my bedroom around - although not as much as a certain friend of mine, ahem JANICE - and the main, open-plan floor of the house hadn't been changed around since we moved in, pretty much. So we thought, what the hell?

But it turns out that the process of moving things around means going through the piles of papers, and books, and whatever else we've collected over the years (elastics, paper clips, matches, pens that do and do not work, random broken things, et cetera), and culling. And that - takes time. And it ends up getting done in between the other things of life, like work, and seeing friends, and exercising, so that now, a week later, there are still big boxes full of stuff that need going through, piles of things covering the kitchen table, furniture halfway to where it might end up, but no longer in its old spot. It feels like we're moving in to our house, all over again. Which in a way is fun, and exciting, the same way a move is, but in another way is frustrating - "I'm tired of reaching for the (insert whatever here) and not having it be there, or walking upstairs in the middle of the night, thinking the furniture is in its old positions, and bumping into things! I just want a magic wand to wave, so it will all be done!Bibbity bobbity boo, et cetera..."

Poor me, I know. Cry me a river. These things really aren't that big of a deal, and I know that. But still - it can get irritating to have one's "nest" all in disarray.

The camera saga continues... So I called the camera store yesterday, thinking, "Oh, silly me, why am I even doing this? Surely the part is on order and it's just taking a long time. Still, I want to check up on it, see what's going on. It's been a whole month, after all." So the person on the other end of the phone tells me that she thinks the order never even went through, and we'll have to order it again. And in order for us to do that, I should probably bring my camera in again so they can have a look and make sure what part they do have to order. Gah! This is a small store, too, run by local people. I don't want there to be problems. I want to be able to say, "I shop small and local, and it's awesome!"

In other news... I read a post by Kate Harding the other day, entitled "On Productivity and Absorption," and it struck a chord with me. I'm not as technology-based as she is, but I do use it, and I am aware of how the "everyone tweeting and talking and posting all the time" phenomenon in our culture has exhausted me. It's a long-ish piece and I wouldn't blame you for not reading it, but I do recommend it.

A corker of a time... I've been wanting to try some new wines and play around with pairing wines and foods. I started out with a very indulgent home-made macaroni and cheese, and asked the people at the local NSLC what they would pair with it. The match was a success, and so when I went over to another friend's for pizza, I asked the NSLC people for tips again. This picture is from my evening with two good friends, trying out three different wines.

(The picture was taken on my friend's camera, which I nearly went home with. No, not really - but I tell you - being able to take pictures again was a rush! O - M - G I miss it so.)

If you click on the picture you can see it larger, and you can see my handwriting on the envelope, with the names of the wines and what kind of glass we decided to serve it in, so we'd remember which was which. (Being young people without heaps of disposable income, we didn't have proper wine glasses. Oh, well.)

Things were feeling a little skimpy around here, without pictures. My camera's part still hasn't come in yet, and the camera store has assured me that if it had, they would have called me. OK, then.

So I thought I might pull out some of my favorite images from the last two years that I've had the digital camera. Then I realized - trying to pick my favorites from the over-10 000 images I have (no joke!) would be ridiculous. So, this morning I went looking, just randomly diving in to the pictures, and pulled out the first seven I liked.

This one was one of the first images I took. It was in March 2008, and it is the teapots that live on the back of the stove. It reminds me of a painting, maybe something by Vermeer - not that I knew who he was until just now, Googling "Girl With A Pearl Earring." But I like the way the light is soft, and coming through a window. Also the colors are mostly muted browns and whites and greys, and then you have this bright green teapot, and the blue one kind of balances it.

This one is from early 2009. I was messing around with my camera and one of our cats, Ginger. He's pretty laidback and forgiving. Sometimes when I'm sad or just wanting a chilled-out moment, I'll go to wherever Ginger is sleeping and just lay my head on his belly. This is what I'm doing here.
This is a cross-stitch piece that lives in my friend Janice's house. Her sister made it. I think it's awesome. I visited Janice and her room-mates last June, and had a lovely time.

While I was there with them, I took a walk around, and down the street came upon this beautiful magnolia tree. I started taking pictures of it, then realized the woman who owned the house was standing in the doorway. I asked her if I could take pictures of her tree and she said yes. I think this particular blossom looks a bit like a light bulb on Christmas lights.

This picture is taken in Pleasant Bay, Cape Breton. It is of Pollett's Cove, in the distance. Last summer I had rented a car, needing to take a break from not having a car, from my little village, from a lot of things. I rented a car and drove away, and visited my friend Ann, who lives in Pleasant Bay. (Well, I suppose it's Red River where she actually lives.) Then I went for a small hike down the Pollett's Cove trail, before having to turn back. I want very much to actually hike the whole trail, which I have done once before. Perhaps this summer.

This plant is called Lamb's Quarters. It is a weed to most people but it is edible, and we let some of them grow in our garden beds. Then we pick them and steam them. Delicious!

This picture was taken the same day as the Pollett's Cove one. It is the beach at Black Brook, also in the Cape Breton Highlands. It actually reminds me of the cover of my friend Bill's book, which I mentioned last post, the book "The Rock In The Water." Or, not, on second glance. Well, whatever.

So, yeah. The point of this post? I miss my camera. But, looking through my old pictures does help to ease the cravings.

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from the goodness of their hearts

Simone is a woman in my village who takes pictures of all kinds of things. She's also a fantastic baker.

She frequents the library and will sometimes bring us treats. The other day she stopped in to photograph the Grade 2 class that was visiting, and she brought us a brown paper bag with four fresh-from-the-oven rolls. I stuck my nose in the bag and the scent of that bread seriously intoxicated me. Drunk on bread. I brought it to the front desk - "Smell this," I said to my colleagues. "SMELL this," as I held it up to their noses. "It smells like LOVE."

"I love Simone's buns," said Kate.

Saying laughing and crying
You know it's the same release
-"People's Parties" by Joni Mitchell

There's been a reason to cry lately; a loss in my life. And I'm so moved by the sweetness other folks have been showing me. Friends just being there - being on the other end of the phone, or there physically with tubs of Haagen-Dazs, or there in email from the other side of the country. Being themselves, being caring, and just plain BEING - the totality of that word.

On the drive to Eskasoni last weekend - I stopped the car in an area called Benacadie and got out and stretched. Steeee - retch. OH yeah, that feels good. Stretch physically after one hour of driving. Stretch mentally - get out of the front seat, out from behind the wheel and the windshield. Look up and see the sky. A new valley - I've never been here before. Brand new place, to me. No one around. Bright sun, dry bare pavement. A bridge across a river, some snow still in the bushes and in the shade. A blackened, just-burnt field.

A car drives by and slows, stops. Several faces, all Mi'kmaq. The driver is wearing a uniform - "Eskasoni" on the arm badge. "Are you all right?" He asks. "Oh yeah, I'm fine," I say, smiling. They drive on.

The goodness of their hearts.

***

I wish my camera was working! (The door that holds in the batteries and the memory chip is broken. I've been to the camera shop and they're ordering me in a new one. In the meantime, I wait.) There are so many things I want to take pictures of, and share here. For example: oranges. I broke down and bought some oranges. As you may or may not know, I try and buy local produce. However, as you may also know, oranges are in no way local to Cape Breton.

Here's why I broke my local produce rule: as I said above, this past week I've been in poor spirits, to the point where food wasn't exciting me at all. I'd think of making food and just feel weary, tired, and sad.

But when my brain went, "Ooh! Oranges!" during a conversation with someone who is going to Florida in a motor-home, I thought I should follow that urge. Like when characters in a movie get into a taxi and say "Follow that car!" I knew this urge would lead me somewhere good.

Later that same day, I found myself sitting outside, on our deck. Peeling the first orange out of the bag like it was going to save my life. And while things are not that dire, in a way that orange did save my spirit. I was seeing things in black and white and grey, and along came something bright orange. With a thick peel that I took off with my fingernails, revealing the juicy segments underneath. And it was delicious.

business time

Tuesday past, I was in North Sydney for part of the afternoon. I had about an hour to kill, and decided to pay a visit to a restaurant that's recently opened on the main street of the town, The Black Spoon Bistro (320 Commercial Street, North Sydney, 902-241-3300). I had been there once before, and taken away a mango fish burger for my dinner later that evening. It was delicious and now I wanted to try something else on the menu.

The weather was blustery, wet and cold. When I got to the Bistro, after only a short walk, I was soaked to the skin through my jeans and jacket. But the ambiance inside was warm and cozy. (And, they seated me next to the heater, bless them.) They manage to perfectly balance "down home" and "stepping out".

I ordered a decaf coffee and the Roasted Vegetable Panini, which comes with either the garden salad or the soup of the day. The panini was grilled and warm, with roasted zucchini, portobello mushroom, red onion and red pepper, as well as Swiss cheese and basil mayo. The flavour was incredible, the texture a great blend of crunchy and cheesy. And though usually I'm not a huge fan of garden salad (it's too easy to get it wrong), this one felt fresh and lively, even on a dreary January day. They julienne the carrot and zucchini, which gives the salad a "dressed up" feeling, yet it's also abundant with tomatoes, croutons and fresh greens. The coffee was tasty, and felt right in a basic white mug.

The waitstaff were friendly and helpful, and chatted happily with their tables as they worked. Though it was quiet this particular afternoon, I overheard the hostess tell two women that the upcoming six-course Valentine's Day dinner was already completely booked. And the restaurant had that hustle and bustle of a place that knows how to be busy.


After my meal I snapped some more pictures. The artwork on the walls is beautiful, as you can see. And the furnishings are simple, classic and comfortable.

This is a light fixture near the front door that won my heart! How cool is this?


I got talking with the owner, Monica Black, when I was paying my cheque. When I asked her who did all the wonderful art, she replied, "Me!" The above shot is the lovely Ms. Black with a gorgeous piece. The art is not yet for sale, but perhaps one day soon. Hopefully!

All in all, I will definitely be going back to The Black Spoon. Apparently their dessert of Peppered Strawberries is not to be missed. Description from the menu: "Freshly sliced strawberries flambeed in a benediction butter sauce with freshly ground peppercorns and served warm over a white cake with vanilla ice cream." Yes please!

If you live in Cape Breton, I strongly recommend getting yourself to North Sydney and checking out this place. If you're "from away," what are you waiting for? Come visit!

***


In other "local business and art" news, I'm helping some friends of mine start a blog! He is Burland Murphy, a local artist mostly known as "Murf," and she is his wife Linda. They have been friends of my family since I was a little girl. He has a storefront on Baddeck's main street, Chebucto St. I'm really excited about this project because I have always loved Murf's art - Cape Breton wildlife, so well-observed and finely detailed. In his first blog post, Murf writes about his "little Kestrel friend" and you can tell in his work that Murf really is a friend of all that he sees in nature.

Check him out at this blog: http://www.burlandmurphy.blogspot.com/

I'll be writing more about him in the future, for sure!

***

Local business - what does it take to create a truly awesome business? A business that, as Kal Barteski says, "Gets it!" A business that truly works within its community, that brings fresh air to the street it is on, that makes people sit up and take notice, like the two listed here? Especially in a place like Cape Breton, where the prevailing sense is that people with energy and verve are leaving, it can feel so awesome and inspiring when you hear of a business that is really kicking butt on so many levels!

I'd love to hear your thoughts.