I jotted these notes down here and there throughout my five weeks in Canada….

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The trip was eventful, to say the least (endless hours stuck on the tarmac, missed flights, $300 Boston hotel rooms, lost clothing, etc).
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Being home is like heaven to me. I swear I feel a hundred pounds lighter and totally stress free. I’m a different woman here.
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I’m staying at my parent’s summer home (eventual retirement home), recently purchased, circa 1800-something, and mostly falling apart. To call it rustic would be kind. I love it. The kids love it. Did I mention we’re happy here?

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There is no phone, no television and internet connection and only one mirror in the entire house. For numerous reasons, these things are very good for me.

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My girls are having the kind of summer all children should have.

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This place, Cheverie, land of my ancestors, is my heart-home. I feel so rooted here - like my veins continue out of my feet, and into the soil. I am a part of this place, and this place is a part of me. It is the only place my soul will ever call home. I hear my ancestors whispering on the wind. I feel love in the touch of the tall grass against my legs, the rocks beneath my feet, the sound of the waves in my ears, the warmth of the sun on my shoulders.

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There is nothing like being out in a field with your kids on a cool summer evening, grass so tall you could get lost in it, picking and eating miniature wild strawberries until your fingers are dyed red, and your nose is running. Seriously - nothing like it.

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Wild flower bouquets picked by an almost six year old for her great-grandmother’s birthday and tied with a grubby piece of ribbon are more beautiful than a roomful of expensive flower arrangements.
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I am infinitely less stressed, more loving, more patient, and taking more pure joy in my girls than I have in ages.
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Despite this, I still feel that bedtime is part of a diabolical plot hatched by my wee ones to break my spirit and leave me begging for mercy.
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The girls have not seemed to adjust themselves to Atlantic Time (four hours ahead of Arizona). They don’t fall asleep until between 10 and 11pm, and generally wake up between 830 and 9am.
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The sleep thing is made more difficult by how late it gets dark here - the sun does not set until around 9pm, and it’s usually not totally dark until nearly 10pm. My girls think it’s still time to party long after they should have been asleep. How do Maritime parents deal with this craziness?

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Jules is nursing far less often though, pretty much only in the morning (her long nursing session) and at nap time if we are home. She still asks now and then, but is easily distracted and not at all upset when I try to divert her attention. It seemed to transition fairly easily after we arrived here - and I’m pretty happy about it. She was nursing SO constantly at home that I was beginning to feel resentful, and I don’t want that emotion to define our nursing relationship. Now, nursing has become joyous again - a special time just for the two of us, and I am giving freely of body and my soul.
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Once again, I packed totally wrong. I’ve got drawers full of clothing that is going unworn, and I’m doing a wash about every three days. Sigh, I never learn.
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Cow’s Ice Cream on the Halifax Waterfront is the best ice cream in the entire world. No argument.

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We took the girls to the Halifax International Tattoo. Julianna fell asleep right before the intermission (often holding her hands over her ears saying “Too Loud! Too Loud!”, Bella was transfixed until the very end of the nearly three hour performance.
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The bagpipes are my favorite part of the show. Just as I believe that salt water runs in my veins, I’m also sure that my heart beats to the rhythm of the pipes and drums. I come alive when I hear them. There are not many bagpipes in Phoenix. Go figure.

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A week and a half here and I’m reminded a million times a day what I try to make myself forget when I’m in Phoenix- I am not meant to live in the desert. I’ll never be fully whole unless I reside near the sea.

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I always forget how much I appreciate a long hot shower until I’m here in Cheverie, where everyone has a well with a finite amount of water and there is no way to fool yourself that there is an endless supply. Overuse of water is distinctly frowned upon - I’d like to continue to live in that mindset back in Phoenix.
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Despite my desire to conserve water in the desert, I still believe a hot shower at the end of the day to be one of life’s purest pleasures. I’ll have to find other ways to conserve.
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I love, love, love that no matter where you go in Nova Scotia - you see garbage in public places, malls, even on the street separated into three sections ‘Trash, Recyclables, and Organics/Compost”. It reminds me of just how far behind the US is in terms of respect for finite resources. I even took pictures - locals must have thought I was crazy

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However, no matter how environmentally impactful it may be, I so wish that Nova Scotia would see the light and place toilet seat covers in all public restrooms. I start taking that for granted when I’m in the US. Me, I can just squat, but I hate the delicate balancing of strips of toilet paper necessary to have Bella go pee.
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Tonight we got a call from the RCMP saying that my father had been in an accident, and had been taken to the hospital. He hydroplaned, his car spun in a circle, and flipped completely over into a ditch, coming to rest on it’s wheels. He is totally okay, and I cannot believe that he walked away without a scratch. The ‘what if’s’ have been playing through my head all night long.

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Never arrive at a church supper 15 minutes before it is supposed to end. You won’t get any food.
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Tonight I accidentally tripped Julianna and sent her flying onto her face. Her upper lip is swollen at least twice normal size, and I feel horrible. Yes, I took pictures.

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Living in the city, where there is always some artificial light, I forget just how many stars there are. On a clear night I can walk outside and loose myself gazing up at the majesty of the universe. It almost makes me dizzy.

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Bella has collected about eight hundred pounds of rocks, sea glass, shells, dead crabs, seaweed, driftwood, and even one really clear fossil from our daily walks on the beach. I have not yet found the courage to tell her that we’re not going to be able to bring it all home.

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Tonight I was on the beach watching the sun go down. My girls were laughing and chattering away, chasing my brother, sister in law and cousin around the beach, building houses for crabs and collecting treasures. Three dogs were running around, climbing rocks, and exploring the shore. The tide was out, and the air was perfect, barely a hint of breeze. The light had that magical golden quality only found at sunset. As we walked along the beach, the sun turned from yellow into a big ball of orange and pink, making a vibrant path across the water and mud and rocks and reflecting up onto the faces of my family. The sun hovered over the horizon, and the clouds above were a creamy white, rimed by a narrow outline with the same magical pink and orange light, as if they were lit from within. My aunt and uncle arrived with their guests, and started a big beach fire. We all sat on a huge piece of driftwood, made smooth by it’s travels in the waters of the Atlantic and relaxed in the warmth of the fire. Moments like this are easily found in a Cheverie summer, perhaps even more priceless because of their plentitude. I am beyond blessed to be here.
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I miss my husband tonight. More than usual - in a lump in my throat, dying to hold him and kiss him kind of way. Just two and a half more weeks and I’ll be able to do just that.
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As much as I miss Sam, it’s always hard to think about leaving here, saying goodbye to my family and my heart-home.

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This is the view from my Grandmother’s kitchen window. Makes me wonder why on earth I’d ever want to be anywhere else.

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This week we went to Halifax for the Tall Ships Festival. We spent the day on the waterfront with Kate, wee Ben and several thousand others.
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Kate is a hundred times more lovely in person (which seems hard to believe but is undeniably true), and wee Ben a zillion times more cute. To give her credit, Kate’s pretty darn cute herself, but it’s Ben who stopped traffic all day long. He’s attention getting - that boy. Yes - I took pictures.

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Bella was in pirate heaven - not only getting to board a real pirate ship (one used in the filming of Dead Mans Chest and Mutiny on the Bounty), digging for buried treasure, visiting a pirate museum, purchasing some pirate loot, watching a pirate show and meeting several ‘real’ pirates - one of whom gave her a piece of his treasure with specific instructions;
“Don’t let this be seen in the light of day, and if you lie, I’ll know where to find you. Argh?”
My girlie took this instruction so seriously that she kept that treasure clenched tightly in her fist for several hours after the exchange - only being convinced to drop it after we convinced her that she could put it in her purse without it ‘seeing the light of day’. She’s still not looked at it - that seriously did she heed his warning.

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Nova Scotia, with its fairly strong history of pirates and privateers, is riding the wave of this pirate frenzy quite well. I remember when Bella first began to be interested in pirates we were hard pressed to find her anything pirate related - now you can’t turn around without seeing pirate merchandise, especially here in the Maritimes - where it at least has the weight of authenticity and is not just propelled by the Disney marketing machine. Bella got $20 vacation money when we got here and has collected more along the way from relatives. I’d say at least 90% of that has been spent on Pirate paraphernalia.
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I am reminded today that there is no really good reason to say no to a request to get filthy-dirty-soaking-wet by jumping in mud puddles, and a million good reasons to say yes.

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Julianna is absolutely, completely not ready for potty training. I gave it a (half-hearted) effort earlier this week and it is sooooooo not happening right now.
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Being a city girl, I tend to forget what real quiet sounds like. Here, in the country, I realize that quiet is not just the absence of sound, but also opportunity to really hear all the sounds that are otherwise pushed into the background. In the right place, silence is actually composed of an entire symphony of noises. You’ve just to got to stop and listen.

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Almost every night I walk across the street to my grandmother’s house after the girls finally succumb to the lures of slumber. I sit in the quiet house (my Grammie being an early to bed kinda girl) and talk to my husband, trying hard to fit an entire day or two worth of events and stories into a short phone call. It reminds me of the time when we were dating but not yet living together. Sadly, sometimes it seems that we talk more this way than we do when we’re living in the same house and caught up in the routine of daily life. Sometimes absence truly does make the heart grow fonder.
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I am here, in a place where the natural beauty is such a constant that it is almost easy to take it for granted. Light dances, and changes colour before your eyes, there are a million different shades of green, rustic barns, old bridges, fields full of wildflowers. I see opportunities for the most amazing pictures each and every day, and most of the time I cannot find the desire to pick up my camera. While I am here, I think, I want to live in the moment, not behind the lens.
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Bella got bitten by a dog today. She’s doing okay - but was pretty hysterical at the time. She’s on antibiotics but does not need stitches. When I go to a new doc here in the US I have to fill out page after page of medical history and proof of insurance - here, all the country clinic needed before seeing Bella was her name, address and $25.00.
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Tonight we all sat around in my parent’s kitchen and had a good, old fashioned sing-a-long, everything from Johnny Cash to Janis Joplin. With my Dad and his friend Harold on their guitars, Bella and Jules kicking in with some wicked harmonica riffs and everyone singing and having a good time - it was truly one of the highlights of my stay.

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My mom and aunt took the girls for a walk on the beach today and found bushes just dripping with wild currents (which Julianna calls ‘curtains’). The girls ate their fill and begged to go back for more. We went down again the next day and Julianna must have eaten hundreds of berries. I finally had to tell her that the birds needed us to leave them some for lunch in order to get her to leave. I think she would have remained all day, picking berries and happily munching away.

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We’ve walked on the beach just about every day we’ve been here, and I still don’t think to bring swimsuits when I know the tide will be in. They just go in with their clothes on anyway, and then strip off later! My kiddo’s have done lots of skinny dipping this summer, and you know what - we’ve always got the beach to ourselves, so it does not even matter. I’ve got the cutest naked butt pic that I’d love to share, but unfortunately there are too many freaks on the internet:(

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Tonight is our last night here, I am ready to go home, but my heart is heavy and sad. I took the girls over to my grandmothers for a bath and they wanted to go down to the beach one last time. We ran into my mother and aunt down there and all sat down to watch what has to be the most spectacular sunset I have ever seen. There was not a cloud in the sky, and Blomidon was completely outlined in dark-edged silhouette. The sun was a giant, pulsing orb of the most vibrant pink-orange colour, standing in sharp relief against the clear white sky. We all watched as it sank, ever so slowly and smoothly, below the horizon. It was utterly flawless and filled me with peace.