Irises in the fog

Fog is really neat.

I’ve been mesmerized by it out on the ocean on a sailboat, where it becomes your whole world – but that’s another blog post.

The other morning after the fog moved in, I was startled by the colours of the flowers.  It was partly the contrast between the saturated colour close up and the grayed-out view in the distance.  And partly (as photographers understand) the non-directionality of the light – the lack of shadows, so the colours are purer.

Another pleasure of gardening in Nova Scotia.

Pure colour close up

Apple blossoms, maple and birch in Lunenburg, May 13th

Apple blossoms were blooming in Lunenburg last Thursday, which means they’re past their prime in the Annapolis Valley already.  The Apple Blossom Festival will apparently be blossom-less.  Usually the organizers hit the blossoms right on with their timing, but this year it is generally agreed that spring is 2 to 3 weeks ahead of schedule.

Not that we’re complaining … this is my favourite time of year, when the leaves burst forth.  If it’s part of a long-term trend, however, it could be very disruptive to the natural balance of blooming and birthing, migration and munching, which governs the ongoing survival of many animals and plants.

Spring is early across Canada, not just in Nova Scotia, or so I hear.  Is spring early where you live?  Leave a comment below.

That’s because it’s really spring in Brussels. When we got there on April 4, the daffodils were past their peak. Forsythia – great bunches of it growing wild – was everywhere. The cherry trees on the streets were blooming pink, and along the highways were many white-blooming trees and bushes. The trees were just on the edge of leafing out when we left Brussels on April 19th.

Sure looks like daffodils and primula were growing wild on the forest floor in the Belgian Ardennes region, April 2010

Now at home, my daffodils have just started, and they’re early this year. I’d counted on this when we planned the trip: seeing two springs. And I will enjoy my second spring as much as the first.

So what is it about Nova Scotia that makes us put up with this extra month of not-quite-spring? And with the cold winters that would kill the broadleaf evergreens that keep Brussels green all year? That’s what I was asking myself as I went for my walk today.

And of course the answer is: the wildness of it. Nature raw and pure. Everything in Europe has been trod upon, cultivated, dug up and built over many times. There is hardly a river that follows its natural course through riverbanks that it carved itself. Humans have had their way with the land for thousands of years.

And we’re having our way with the land in Nova Scotia too, it’s just that we haven’t been here so long in such numbers. Natural shoreline is gradually diminishing, soils are being depleted, pollution locally-made or imported on the jet stream fills our lungs.

The closeness of the wild world reminds us that we still have something to protect, even while we seek to build a viable economy. Can we effectively, sustainably, balance these two concerns?

Bicycles and piles of snow

Getting my digs in at winter

Slush on the waves

Giving spring some encouragement

At 8:30 this morning, at high tide, the water was almost level with the road leading to the Oak Island causway. Some small waves came onto the road from what is usually the sheltered side.

Cannon directing its wrath at the sea.

On Friday night, our power was off for 2 1/2 hours, which is very unusual for us.

High tide that night coincided with high winds. Waves were splashing over the causeway.

The cannon in the photo at right used to point straight out at oncoming ships, but since Friday night it has been pointing downwards, as if to protect us from the wrath of Poseidon.

Reassuring!

Making landfall on the island

Across from the tidal inlet near our house is a small island which is a symbolic destination for us, depending on the time of year. We celebrate spring, and the ice breaking up, by canoeing to it. In winter, if the ice is thick enough, we walk or skate to it. Today the ice was over 6 inches thick, the required minimum, and we walked there.

Cold on the outside … and warm on the inside.

Cold on the outside

and warm on the inside

Snowy road

1. The smooth, quiet brush of fresh snow under your skis.
2. The way ice breaks and cracks over rocks as the tide falls.
3. Empty beaches with shimmering vistas.
4. 

   Sea ice and rock, low tide

   The mildness, softness and peace a snowfall brings.
5. Like the folks here, a winter is softness and gentility: quite well mannered, and departs when the welcome is worn.
6. Snow days!
7. A crackling fire in a woodstove making heat that penetrates to your bones.

8. 

   A boy and a buoy

   Walking ON the bay in places we usually row, paddle or sail.

9. Sunlight sparkling off snow-laden branches.
10. Minas Basin ice shifting, buckling, making strange sculptures on the shore.
11. Magnificent bald eagles.
12. Watching the days get longer in the coldest part of the winter.
13. 

    Icing on the cake

    Shovelling the driveway with a helper who will clear up the last little bits: the sun.
14. NO mosquitoes, NO blackflies, NO no-see-ums!
15. The weather changes frequently: it’s fairly mild, and cold snaps are short, warm periods are also short.  There’s something for everyone and no time to get bored!
16. The province is small but has a variety of microclimates.  Want more snow?  Ski hills are not so far away.  Want less snow?  Go walk a deserted South Shore beach.


Ice floes

17. Memories of crazy winter antics performed when we were young and immortal: descending hills at great speed, jumping from one ice floe to another as the frozen ocean broke up (some have memories of being rescued in these situations!), “getting towed on a sled behind my dad’s car on a snow-covered gravel road, riding my bike through the streets of Halifax when the snow wasn’t too bad,” ice boating, skating on thin ice….
18. Maple syrup made in the woods.
19. 

    Alone in a drift

    Patterns made by drifting snow.

20. Winter skies unlike anything you see in the summer.
21. Eating fresh snow.
22. Cardinals and purple finches at the feeder.
23. Getting insight into the life of rabbits from their tracks in the woods.

Oak leaf shape in ice

Heading west, past Mahone Bay, on Highway 103

Turn north at Blockhouse onto the Cornwall Road

Along the Mushamush River in Middle New Cornwall

Turn left at Crossroad Farm in Upper New Cornwall. It's for sale, by the way.

West on Cross Road

Another house

Further along Cross Road, heading west

Which way now? Can't read the sign. Keep to the left.

Farm on Cross Road

Ah, here we are, at Upper Northfield.

All photos taken on Thursday, January 21, on my way to Pinehurst, just west of Upper Northfield.