Memories of My Visit

Memories of My Visit

It’s Sunday, sunny with a chill wind.  The only way I can be comfortable sitting outside is to find a sheltered spot in direct sunlight.  Nearby a hefty grey squirrel seems to be thinking the same thing.  He munches on his pine cone aware that I am here but apparently unafraid, as we share this pool of sunshine.  He knows he can run faster than I, escape, if need be.

Sitting on a wooden storage box on the front porch, I'm looking across the street at a modern, creamy yellow house.  It appears to have been built to mimic the stateliness of this home.  The new house doesn’t work and looks oddly out-of-place in this older neighbourhood of Port Washington.  There is something solid, comforting, time worn about this 1896 house that nothing newer can duplicate. 

The cement porch hugs two sides of this massive home, providing shelter and welcome; for me, a secluded place in which to write. The grey squirrel runs off after finishing his cone, to find another or to chase the chipmunk that chatters and scolds in the side yard.  A scent of pine balsam carries on the mounting breeze.

The Port Washington area of Long Island, New York is farther south than where I live in New Brunswick, Canada.  Consequently here, the vegetation is still lush and green belying the cooler breezes and chillier nights that approach and have already touched our trees at home with sizzling colours.

My hooded sweatshirt isn’t cutting the cold from the stiffening wind so I will have to move soon.  The wind blows through me, picking and tossing stray leaves, shed from the tender shrubbery.  I need to shift to a warmer seat, seek somewhere more protected than this wooden box on the porch.

This early Sunday morning is peaceful, quiet, except for the rising wind rustling through the five-story maples that surround this house, breathing through the pines with sighs like waves on sand.  At first totally embraced by sun, now only my legs are warm.  I can feel heat on my jeans, warmth on my shoes.  But the wind carries thoughts of ice and my sunlit pool is shrinking.

A thin woman, in a tiny black tank top and matching spandex shorts, jogs by the front of the house; her dog is the same crinkly blond colour as her hair.  The pat, pat of her sneakers keeps time with the clack, clack of her dog’s toenails on the pavement.  I shiver as I watch her.

Yes, running is one way to keep warm.  But I want to write, so I am up now, searching for another sheltered spot of autumn sunlight, in which to further enjoy the last of summer, in this magical old house.

All photos are mine unless otherwise noted.

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Little Boy at the Beach

Little boys need fresh air and laughter

and lots of running each day.

This day, he has all three. 

His dad throws stale crackers

to the seagulls and pigeons

 at Jones Beach, Long Island, New York.

Other children join the chase.

The pigeons don't fly away.  They run faster than he can!

The seagulls flutter out of his reach,

but keep a close eye on the tossed cracker crumbs.

He runs and laughs and whirls and laughs again.

Such fun for a little boy at the beach.

Pumpkin Search

What happens when you mix this bright, golden curled girl

with her dark haired talented brother

on an idyllic fall day in the countryside

searching for pumpkins with Mama and Papa

at a local Farm Market?

You get a day full of colour and laughter and joy!

Birthday Cake

I am fortunate to have been able to celebrate my daughter's birthday with her and her family this year.  It's the first time we've spent it together since she moved to the United  States years ago.

We bought a special chocolate ganache cake, sang the song, blew out the candles and opened presents.

Guess who

enjoyed the cake

most of all?

Warning:  He enjoyed the cake but none of us enjoyed the after-effects of all his excitement and too much sugar!  He doesn't have sugared food generally so it wasn't good. 

Bad Grammy!

Grandchildren in Quebec

We visited family in Quebec recently.  It was fun to spend time
at a local farm market with our grandchildren.

They were delighted to see baby animals and to feed carrot

tops to the bunnies

and to the kids (baby goats).

There were wagon rides and a pumpkin patch to explore

and rolls of hay to climb.

And everyone had a great time, even the bunnies.

Air Canada 616

Air Canada

Air Canada gets lots of bad press.  Threatened strikes and lost luggage, late flights, employee rudeness and attendant crabbiness.  If you bring up the subject of Air Canada, each person has a story; not all of them are positive.

I flew with Air Canada on a recent trip to New York.  The ticket agents were helpful and friendly; the staff were pleasant and went out of their way to accommodate my needs and to answer my questions.  All went well until the last leg of the trip home. The flight itself from Toronto to Halifax was uneventful, except for weather related turbulence and heavy rain with unpredictable winds.

As we began the landing process in Halifax, approaching the runway and decreasing speed, suddenly we were ascending.  The pilot spoke to us saying that front controls for the airplane were not working properly.  He said that we would try again to land after circling to get into position.

We circled for nearly 20 minutes.  The pilot indicated that front end controls were still not working… there would be emergency vehicles on the runway … we were re-routing to a longer runway.  He also assured us that the landing would be normal.

This seemed to me to be more disquieting than if he had said we were having problems and the landing would be if-y.   How is it helpful to say there are front end mechanical issues on an Airbus 320 and then to say, “It will be a normal landing”?

The lights went dark and the cabin filled with heavy, thick silence. We circled and circled for nearly 45 minutes.   My husband, waiting in the terminal said that the boards indicated that our flight had arrived; probably some screw up caused by our plane starting to descend to the runway in the beginning and then having to ascend rapidly.

We did land in Halifax, eventually, albeit roughly, with considerable bumpiness.  I felt relieved to be on solid ground and the cabin occupants burst into stress released conversation, the false brightness that anxiety passing brings.

We landed as smoothly as possible without benefit of the flaps down and the flare out that planes generally use to slow themselves to an easy, gentle descent to the runway.  Emergency vehicles were nearby

These had been tense moments.  And I felt grateful to the experienced pilots of flight AC 616 from Toronto to Halifax for knowing how to land a huge airplane with 200+ passengers, despite some necessary parts not working.

Perhaps, we were never in much danger.  I don’t really know.

Perhaps Air Canada needs a tune up on personnel, customer relations and luggage tracking; I don’t know about those issues either.  I only know I am thankful that pilots with experience and calm determination got us out of the sky on a rainy miserable night with minimal discomfort despite mechanical problems on the Airbus 320.

Thanks to Air Canada for a safe landing!

 

Phases of Autumn

Phases of Autumn

In the past two weeks, I’ve experienced three different phases of autumn.

Here in Riverview, leaves have been changing for weeks.  Trees are brilliant with fiery colours, the harvest moon hangs heavy and low in the evening sky, gardens are dying, preparing for rest.

North of here, in Quebec, the season is farther along.  Many trees are bare.  White birch stands stark against the remaining foliage, much of it blown off and crunchy, lying colourful on the bed of earth.

South of here, on Long Island New York, autumn has hardly begun.  This dogwood tree is one of the first to change into its delicate rosy hue.  Everything else is still verdant and lush.

Travelling this time of the year provides glorious scenery and awe-inspiring vistas.  It reminds me: everywhere landscapes, life-styles, priorities and perspectives are as varied as the stages of autumn.  Different from what I call home.  Different from what I know.  It is good to be stretched and to acclimatize to other ways of being and living.  And it’s good to be home again!