Peggy's Cove: A lesson in Quiet

It was quiet.  Punctured only by the occasional conversation carried on the wind and the constant crash of the waves against the rocks. 

We went towards the water, compelled by the rocks and the muddy, narrow path leading towards the water. One jump and then another and then another and we were there. Right on the edge.

6 inches separated me from the Atlantic Ocean. 

It was awesome. In the truest sense of the word. 

I could have stayed for a long time. I breathed in and out with the cadence of the waves, half in awe and half in delight. And then brought back to reality by the giggle of my two year old and the way she followed her uncle like a mountain goat over the rocks. 

The mum in me got nervous and I told him to hold her hand. Always.

It's barren there. Rocks covered with red heather. Little pools of water. And all around you, the ocean. Demanding respect. 

I tore myself away and we walked down to the village. Few words were spoken. We gestured when we wanted to stop and try to capture the scene before us. We wandered through a boathouse filled with old fishing paraphernalia and other interesting stuff like a whale's jaw bone. I wondered what use I would have for a lobster trap and how I would display it. And then I saw the shells, gathered up from the sea. Worth very little to the seller, but worth a great deal for me. I handed over my coins and he wrapped the shells up for me. 

 We followed the twisting road up to the lighthouse and the throngs of people. It is after all one of the most photographed sites in all of Canada. We took some obligatory pictures as well and headed away from the people. 

It was too noisy, too busy. Everyone caught up with too much noise, the bus schedules, the overpriced coffee served at the top, the perfect picture. 

I wanted to capture it all with a film camera. Slow.

We wandered along the rocks, always making our way close to the edge, watching the water hit the rocks and create spray. Our faces were moist. 

I found a house I wanted to live in, a little house by the sea. It's quiet and secluded. Simple and quiet. 

I crave that in my life. 

And so I build it in, one little bit at a time. And I keep my shells close to remind me. 

How To Be Quiet 

1. Take a deep breath. 

No, seriously. It can't always have the sea tang but it can always help. Breathe in and then out slowly to the count of ten. It slows your heart rate down and relaxes your body. 

2. Do the next thing. 

So the house may be a mess, the laundry still needs to be folded and there's other nagging jobs. Just do the next thing: put laundry on, wash the dishes, breathe. Everything will fall into place. 

3. Deliberately slow down. 

Light a candle, put some calming music on, gather your littles or whoever is close to you and hug them.   Take time to figure out the reason why life feels so busy, so noisy. And then scale back. 

4.  Take time to be quiet. 

It may just be a few minutes standing on the back porch, or it may be longer. Leave your phone alone, actually leave all screens alone. Take the few minutes to regroup and then face your lists, your busyness, your day. 

Where is your favorite quiet place? 

To the Ocean We Went

I put the girls in their carseats, and we drove, taking full advantage of the rental car for the weekend. Along the winding road, beside the blaze of glory that transforms the trees in autumn in Nova Scotia. One little girl slept, and the other talked. A lot. And asked questions. Mostly why questions. 

I was exhausted and just wanting to be quiet. I stopped the car and took some pictures. The wind blew my hair and made the grass dance. It was beautiful. 

And so is my life. I just miss it sometimes, chasing after perfection. Chasing after the ideal that doesn't exist for anyone. 

Life is busy and full and so very precious. 

We walked all over the beach, picking up shells, drawing in the sand and walking in the water. We ran and we sang at the top of our lungs. We took big gulps of fresh air. I let the breeze blow all the tension away. I let my girls be little and I let myself be their imperfect mum. 

I answered endless questions of why, I danced the dance of the Ergo when my littlest one fussed and I memorized how the ocean calmed all of us. 

We collected two more shells for our collection and headed home. 

Colors of Nova Scotia

It's a bit of a grey day today, the sun is bravely peeking through the clouds promising that it won't always be grey. There is so much colour here in Nova Scotia, the houses, the front doors, and the bus benches. They mirror the rainbow of colors found on the trees and the wildflowers and the undergrowth. The color is vibrant and life-giving. 

The sky is expressive, dark and brooding one minute and the next moment the sun peeks through the clouds. 

I love it here. 

And today I want to share a little bit of my new home with you. 

"Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go and do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

H. Thurman

Wishing you a day filled with color and life and sunshine peeking through the clouds!

To Pick an Apple

We went apple picking, my girlies and I. It's kind of one of those 'must do' activities when you live in the Annapolis Valley. Historically the Valley is known for its apple orchards, Wolfville's famous Farmer's Market is held in an old apple warehouse and every farm market along the highway sells apples whether grown in their own orchards or not. 

To live during Autumn is to live the season in the East where leaves turn every color and the season is long, long compared to the West. It has always been one of my favorite seasons but here there is just something extra special. Apple picking, pumpkin patch, gourds, boots, scarves, hot tea, and the cold nip  in the mornings. 

I was delighted when I saw apple picking at Noggins Corner Farm on a list of activities with a local homeschool playgroup. My girls are too young for most of activities but this one I knew we could do and it was an opportunity to get out and meet some other moms. 

Noggins Corner Farm is a well-set up operation. They have a farm market where you can buy all kinds of seasonal produce, their squash displays alone made me want to buy one of every variety. 

Along with about 60 other parents and their children, we went on a wagon ride past the flower and herb gardens, the raspberry canes and the pumpkin patch. We rode through the forest and under the eagle's nest and past rows and rows of beautiful apples. 

Each of the children were given a bag and we filled it with Gravenstein (an apple brought over from Europe in the 19th century), and Macintosh (a Canadian apple from Ontario in the 18th century). Kilmeny was more interested with picking up the apples off the ground then picking them off the tree, and we filled the bag quite quickly. 

There was also a corn maze to go through as well as the incredible play area set up to occupy children of all ages. I opted out of the corn maze because really? With one sleeping baby and the toddler strapped in the stroller, it wouldn't be that fun. We hung out by the duck races, got throughly soaked (Kilmeny) and chatted with the other moms of littles (me). 

There were apples to enjoy on the picnic tables, huge slides made out of pipes, tunnels made out of the same pipes and hay bales, a climbing structure made out of tires and hay bales and flowers to pick if one so chose. 

It was a marvellous day, filled with lovely autumn activities. 

What is your favorite thing about this season?

Blomindon Park: a Bay of Fundy treasure

On the last weekend before we returned the rental car, we went exploring. The road wound in and out of small towns, past farms with their produce stacked by the road inviting you to buy a pumpkin, showing vistas that made us catch our breath in the sheer beauty of it all. 

It was misting when we arrived and we ran out in the glory of it all, happy to be alive and together. We scooped up our little ones, one on my back and one held her Daddy's hand. 

We marveled at the old things just sitting there, the rock wall built over a hundred years ago, the ancient  tractor now part of the forest's landscape. 

We took big breaths of the salty air as we made our way down the stairs onto the beach. 

This.

This was what we had been waiting for, the great expanse of water. England was just on the other  side of the pond. 

We both went a little (iPhone) camera crazy, trying in some way to capture the intense beauty that surrounded us. 

  

The acres of red sand. The apple tree showering its fruit on the beach below. The fresh water falling over the cliffs and making its way to mingle with the salt water. Driftwood, tiny shells, crabs, tide patterns on the sand, lobster traps, seaweed. 

My heart was full to bursting. There were many things that were hard about the transition (still are hard,  if I'm honest), but in that moment I was deliriously happy. 

And no one can take that from me. 

We walked to the water's edge, tipped our toes in the Atlantic, and felt so small. And so alive.