the bend in the road

This evening I took Jigs out to stomp along look-off path near Herring Cove. I have thought about stopping here dozens of times but until this evening I had never made a point of it. When I pulled up, the setting sun was pouring a golden light on McNabs Island on the opposite shore and the Lighthouse was picked out as a sharp slash of white on Maughers Beach. Halifax Harbour opens up to the North Atlantic at Herring Cove and an endless calm blue sea stretched out beyond the rocky shoreline. The deep cold forced me to take quick snaps as my fingers froze solid when my mitts were off for more then a minute or two. At the waterline the rocks were coated with ice thrown up by the spray and it was tricky walking with my big clunky boots. Jigs happily zoomed around and I kept losing sight of her against the granite blocks. Her beige fur is a perfect camouflage against the stone.

into the gloaming

The brutal cold of this last week has come packaged with sharp blue skies and glorious sunshine. At the end of the day, when the shadows and clouds step into the scene, it is enough to take my breath away. Tonight Jigs and I got outside just as mother nature's evening show was starting. The rowdy gang of crows that lives in these woods was putting up a large ruckus and filled the sky as they swooped from tree to tree. No doubt they were arguing about who got the best branch to view the sunset.

groundhog day

The marmot has spoken. Shubenacadie Sam poked his nose out into the sunshine this morning. This year he concurred with Punxsutawney Phil, there will be 6 more weeks of winter. Kind of a no brainer when you live in Nova Scotia.

Lauchie imported the term groundhog day into our household about 12 years ago. He was working offshore in Norway and one of his workmates ended every shift by playing Sarah Brightman's Time to Say Goodbye. Just like the movie, everyday was like groundhog day. Everyday the same as the last, the days rolled out ahead with no end in sight and the work was an interminable grind. Lauchie claims that Groundhog Day is his favourite movie and likes to quip "It's said to be the most spiritual movie of all time". And who doesn't love a movie that gives you a shot at redemption?

give the man what he wants

When I emailed Lauchie and told him that it had snowed again, he immediately wrote back "Any more photos?". Rather then bore him with another round of shots of the Dingle woods, yesterday I braved the -20 c degree windchill to go on a downtown mission to find fresh views. During an errand run on Friday, I had noticed that the great iron gates of the Public Gardens were crusted in snow and the open fields of Citadel hill were drifted in white. I have not walked up to the Citadel in a long time and it was a great day for a trot around the ramparts. The air was bracing, the blue sky exhilarating and the hill was steeper then it looked. Jigs, my co-pilot, gave the destination two paws up.

address to a haggis

Aye, 'tis Burns Night agin. A few of my friends have been gathering to toast the bard, Robbie Burns, for several years. We aren't true scotchophiles, it's just an excuse to get together for a mid-winter meal. Tonight my dinner contribution is the salad. I am sure those were few and far between in the Scotland of Burn's time. An improvised offering of greens with candied pepper pecans and a maple-whiskey dressing will have to suffice. Up your kilt! Scots Wahey!

el toro

A couple of nights ago we had a few inches of snow. It fell in soft perfect flakes all day and by evening, the road looked like this:

Which meant I had to start up this:

Propelling a roaring, banging monster up and down the driveway does take a bit of the romance out of the moment. I was glad to shut it off, put it back in its cave and enjoy the silence. The pinky sky and snow laden branches were spectacular the next morning and the beauty of it has lingered. It almost makes the shoveling worth it. Almost, Lauchie, almost.

back on the bunny hill

I have not had a set of sticks on my feet in over a decade and was not sure if I could even keep myself vertical. When I was in university, my aunt married a ski crazy man and he infected the whole family with his passion for the sport. My younger brother became a fantastic skier who could helicopter off of jumps and bust across a mogul field in seconds flat. At my best, I could get up and down the hill without falling. My brother kept skiing while my interest and abilities flagged. It took a 9 year old boy to get me back out on the snow. My godson was keen to try it and I asked my brother to come out and show him the ropes. The tow rope that is. That's how I found myself out on the slopes on a magnificent winter day wondering why I hadn't gotten there sooner.

It was lovely to watch all the kids learning how to snowplow or pizza slice as they call it now. It made me think of my uncle and how pleased he would be to see another new skier being minted. He was a tireless worker and he was devoted to a number of causes but skiing was his great love. He co-founded Canada's Nancy Green Ski League and personally, with great patience, taught hundreds to ski. And in his spirit we pass the torch to the next generation.

Thanks Bro! You are still the coolest kid brother around.