Where Natures Pallette of Perfumes is Just Enough

We've all been to a big city. We've all had those experiences of odour; sewage, trashy smells, diesel fumes, petrol fumes, smog...those scents of a big city. We try to escape them, desperate for a breath of fresh air. It often starts when we drag our luggage out of the airport doors to hail a taxi. It slams us in the face and we know we're in Big City X. Nice. Not.

It struck me the other day, returning from Washington DC on another business trip. Tired. Ready to just get home. But often if you live in another major city, well, you come back to, smog. Petrol fumes and all the other odours of a big city. But not Halifax. I walked out those airport doors for the bus to the extended parking and well, yes, I got slammed with odours. Actually, scents. A fog was rolling in. From the ocean, 20 KM's away. I could smell the ocean. With the breeze I could also smell the pine trees. No gas, no diesel. Just nature's perfume. In a city of 400,000 people.

That's Nova Scotia. Ocean winds that carry away the detritus smells of a big, bustling city, and anyone who thinks Halifax doesn't bustle? You need to visit here. We know how to bustle when the bustling is good. A major container port, a high-tech corridor, five universities.

We don't manufacture on big scales here. That's not what we're about. We're about being smart with how we work and what we do. Knowledge-based industries and a passion for our healthy environment. Clean. Ocean breezes that carry fresh, salt-scented air that clears the lungs and mind. The scent of pine on hot summer days, the Lilac bushes in summer throughout the city, the uplifting scent of fresh lawns after a heavy rain. The falling leaves in the autumn and the crisp fresh air of a winters day.

That's Nova Scotia. Balance between bustle, hustle and sanity for the senses. Pure gold.

(Photo Credit: Johnfromnscas)

Seeing The Trees for the Forest is Nice

We must have a love affair with trees in Nova Scotia. Some say that when you can't see the trees for the forest it's a bad thing. I'm afraid I have to disagree in this case. In the autumn, you can seriously see the trees for the forest...they're those glowing red, yellow and auburn maples and oaks so brilliantly backdropped by a curtain of tall pines and spruce. In spring it is the bursting vibrant green of maples, oaks, beeches and more again highlighted by those kindly evergreens.

In summer they offer cool shade from the summer heat. In winter a great chance to climb high in their embracing arms where you can leap into a deep pile of snow and laugh. In any time of year, they offer a rolling vista from the highways, sometimes with stunning layers of fog and sunlight, making the distant hills seem to roll mysteriously in the distance, ever beckoning you forward to new discoveries.

You can climb some amazing trees and gaze across the ocean or a deep lake and drift into pleasant and sweet memories of childhood. You can attach a mighty truck tire and feel the thrill of the peeling laughter of children as they swing madly. Or in some places you can take a running leap, grab a rope attached to a pine hanging wildly over a cliff and drop into a cool, clean fresh water lake in the depths of summer.

I guess for these and many more reasons, it's why I like seeing the trees for the forest around here.

What about you?

(Photo Credit: Archer10 Dennis on Flickr)

A Symphony of Seasonal Sounds

There's something about living in a place that juts out into the most notoriously unevenly tempered ocean on our wonderful planet. Particularly when you're not too far north for bitter cold or too far south for gentle warmth.

We hover somewhere in between. Living on such a turbulent edge of seasons and natures fell moods makes for one of those sublime perks that is Nova Scotia - the seasonal symphony sounds ones ear can attune to.

In winter it is that quick crack of water and syrup freezing under the bark of the trees as the temperature plunges downward. The woods behind our house snap and pop in a cacophony of chill, a gentle breeze tossing an undercurrent swoosh. When the snow has laid it's canopy over the land and the air is brittle as you walk, that distinctive crunch underfoot wakes you up and carries you hurriedly forward. At times when the snow is heavy and falling hard, caught between freezing rain and ice pellets, the sound against the trees is a mesmerizing

When spring descends upon the land like a warm face-towel at the end of a long red-eye flight through the night it awakens you so suddenly. As if the harsh scrubbing of winter had left the land clear to breathe and start anew. Spring rains hypnotize one to sleep, the uncurling leaves bring a sweet undercurrent of happiness in their song. Falling maple seeds spin and if you listen close, they sound of laughter. Different birds take up their songs and familiar tunes are sung of new birth and delights of the rising early worms.

As spring fades and brightens into summer come, the lap of the waves on the seashores around the province seem to calm, as if the sea were laying down it's angry concerto of the winter and spring months. The tempests and squalls will be but interludes to the pervading calm.

Summer rests hot and humid as august rolls in. The blanketing of a fog just the soft timpani of a muted drum over the land. Drops of moisture like the soft bells across the land. Ones heart is restful then, yet chuckling inside.

As autumn rolls in, the colours of the land turn into brilliant cascades of light. Accompanying this Manet's canvass is the gentle rustle and fall of leaves. In the quiet of a sun-dappled glade as one sits, the falling leaves are gentle in their sound and a sigh escapes them, promising they will return with the turn of the seasons.

Where else in the world is one surrounded by such an ever changing symphony of sounds to inspire and ignite so many emotions? No wonder so many musicians, artists and authors have found such inspiration in this province...

(Photo Credit: Dave Saunders Photography on Flickr)

Music is the Rhythm of Life Here

The sun gives a final wink to the day, gently pulling the inky dark shade of night time over the city. The cool November air lays calm upon another average Saturday evening. The house hums with the tapping of a keyboard, the background of an iPod stereo and soft chatter of the dinner question. It is the ebb and flow of life, those moments of contentment in just being.

The intrusion of the doorbell breaks the stupor of the moment. And what begins is another one of those little things that make Nova Scotia just what it is and adds the exclamation mark of living here. The musical moment has arrived. A dear friend with a guitar and a bottle of wine. The phone cranks it's disjared melody and what flows is what flows.

Not an hour later there are two guitars thrumming on knees, the bells come out, a didgeridoo gets dusted off and the laughter and kind teasing commences. Of their own accord the teens in the house come to sit cross-legged on the kitchen floor, which in Nova Scotia might also be called a studio with an oven and sink.

The traditionals are sung, James Taylor, Cat Stevens, some silly made-up ditties. Attempts at the didgeridoo call for laughter and shakes of the head. As always though in Nova Scotia, the songs turn to the rhythm of this province; the Irish and Scottish songs, a smattering of Gaelic and those songs made so well loved by the Rankins; Tell My Ma, Fare Thee Well and on.

Music, old and new, permeates this province. Perhaps it is what carries us through the dark cold February nights? or lifts our heart in the humid heat of August. Undeniably it seeps into ones life here, the talent runs across all communities and the harmonies bring us together no matter where we've been or where we're going.

(Photo Credit: Standing in the Shadows on Flickr)

We Don't Build Big Fences Around Here

Although they do come in handy for hanging clothes to dry in the summer sun, we're not that into fences in Nova Scotia. It might seem like a small thing, but fences can somehow throw barriers in the way of a happy neighbourhood.

This summer we had new neighbours move in behind and slightly up from us. They arrived from Ottawa. A week after moving in, we noticed yellow construction ribbon going around their property. This included the lovely copse of woods that provides a home for moles, voles, mice, raccoons and the odd deer...and of course, a mystical land for the children of the neighbourhood.

The next day the new lady of the house knocked on our door. She wanted permission for a work crew to come through our yard to clear their piece of the back woods. I asked why the ribbon. "For a fence" she stated as if I was somewhat daft (on certain Saturday mornings this may be the case, but not that day.) I asked why a fence. Because that's what they do in Ottawa she replied. Everyone has a fence.

I heard some sounds from the back of the house. I asked her to follow me around the rear of the house. The summer sun was playing through the yards, lawnmowers buzzing, the warm day inviting laziness with open arms. As we came around the back, I said to her "watch for a minute, and listen." She gave me evils with her eyes, parked her fists on her hips, pursed her lips and cocked an ear.

In moments a parade of kids came barreling through the woods, dashing in and out of the backyards of the houses, gales of laughter and peels of squeals, arms and legs akimbo. Her children were among them, their ages from five to twelve. Boys and girls. We parents simply didn't exist in their magical trance.

She looked at me a moment. I said, "Imagine the games your children might miss, behind a fence." And I tried a big smile. She looked at me a moment, then asked if the crew could still come in to clean, after all she said, she didn't want to children to hurt themselves on some of the tree fall.

Later that afternoon the yellow tape came down. No fence has gone up. I think the kids have discovered where the forest fairy's live, where a troll is supposedly hiding and the racoons go in winter...but no castle walls to keep laughter out.

Image: Mahones on flickr

Autumn Hikes Under Brilliant Cascades of Colour

At the close of a hectic week in the bustling city of Halifax there is nothing more relaxing and mind-clearing than a hike. Nova Scotia is teeming with trails; ocean hugging, ambling creekside paths, craggy rock escarpments or deep woods mystery. Whatever mood takes you, whatever scenery calls, choice abounds. One is out of the city in the blink of an eye and trail bound in moments. The sounds of the highway fading in just a few moments.

Yet all these trails are bordered or bedecked with autumns cascading colours. Along the Cape Split trail you climb under deep green firs and pines into a yellow-hazed canopy of poplars and beech tickling the heart and chuckling in a soft breeze. Skies are crisp blue, clear and filled only with possibilities.

Along the shore trails one moment you're idling under a scarlet fall of red maple leaves and mottled brown maples, broken here and there with a brilliant sliver of yellow. Along lakes stand sturdy walls of conifers accented by yellows, browns, reds and oranges, sometimes the shoreline seems to shimmer and laugh as the leaves let fall their summer burden preparing to settle in for the winter snows to come; their long languid sleep at hand.

One is taken to smile at a bounding Nova Scotia duck toller retriever, tail wagging, perhaps a stick in mouth seeking a lakeside to leap into. The air often crisp with the loamy scent of the fallen leaves underfoot, the gentle crunch of pine needles releasing just a hint of pine into the air.

No matter your mood, an autumn hike in this province can only leave your mind refreshed. Perhaps the only yearning that of a steaming mug of tea a hot apple cider or seeing the tired, content smiles of the kids wrapping their hands around a heavy mug of thick hot chocolate. Just another one of those small things in Nova Scotia that makes it a jewel on Canada's east coast.

(Photo Credit: Peter of the Port on Flickr)

A Mysterious Land?

No one can say exactly who built these structures, nor exactly when. The 1400's? Earlier? later? These are the mysterious ruins of Bayers Lake, tucked into a corner of Bayers Lake retail park, oddly out of phase with the surrounding mix of retail and office buildings. But that's just another one of those idiosyncrasies of this fascinating and captivating province.

For many centuries Nova Scotia was a landing point, a rest place, a fortress or shelter for ancient mariners a home to the Mi'kmaq. The enigmatic, craggy and mystery-bound eastern coastline to the gentle inlets of the south shore or the rolling hills of the Annapolis Valley coast line. Many different cultures and nations have tread upon these shores.

Speculation of the Bayers Lake mystery walls runs that it may have been a trading post with the Mi'kmaq native Indians. Others that it was an outpost of the British navy. More recent is the tantalizing theory it was built by the Sinclair's of Scotland as they searched to hide the Templar treasure from the French and English. Which ties to the enigmatic and elusive treasure of Oak Island (which some now speculate is a diversion from where the real Templar treasure is hidden.) On Goat Island near L'habitation in Annapolis is a stone; upon which is carved the Masonic square & compass, with the date "1607" carved in it. Except "modern" Freemasonry wasn't started until the 1700's. The main building of the Bayers Lake walls is 5-sided; not at all a typical design of the past, with the entrance facing East. Why 5 sided?

This land abounds with them. The brilliant tale of Glooscap, the vikings, the French, the British, the Acadians...perhaps Nova Scotia is, arguably, one of the most mystery filled places in North America? I've come to find it so myself...on a foggy cool day driving along the coast, one can almost see the ghosts of Templar knights stealing quietly up the beaches, treasure chests in hand...