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...

The Unveiling Canvas of Autumn in Nova Scotia

I felt the crisp, fresh breeze of autumn drift up from the harbour yesterday evening. It seemed as if Mother Nature was gently lifting the first corner of her fall canvass, giving us just a hint of the brilliant hues that would soon dress trees and bushes.

A breath of that cool, invigorating air and floods of memories stirred in my mind and sliver of contentment traveled up my spine. Autumn stirs this province from the lazy late summer heat and sets the pace for the winter to come. Steaming mugs of hot cocoa after a crisp evening walk in the park. The delirious mess of the kitchen from pumpkin carving and the scent of roasting pumpkin seeds.

Soon the Annapolis Valley will hear the laughter of children dashing about the Corn Maze. The local farms bustle with people out to pick their very own pumpkins straight from the field. Kentville and Wolfville homes and places decorate their lawns with fancily dressed pumpkin people. For a warm evening barbeque there's always the Pumpkin Beer of Propeller Brewery, yet another unique flavour of Nova Scotia.

The long anticipation of the Thanksgiving turkey dinner. The kitchen filled with family and friends preparing the meal while the house overflows with the melodious scents of cooking turkey. Plates filled with turkey, butternut squash, potatoes, carrots and turnip, heaps of stuffing and ladles overflowing with gravy. A crisp Gaspereau Valley or Jost wine to wash it down.

Sweaters become warm companions, while jackets are shaken from their summer slumber in the closet. Shorts and t-shirts are laid away for their hibernation. Lawn chairs and umbrella's are tucked and rose bushes wrapped. Leaves carpet the lawns and the sound of raking fills the Sunday afternoons.

Perhaps most pleasant of all is the daily, changing canvas of Mother Natures trees. Some brilliant yellows, startling reds or the occasional mottled brown of the oak. This is autumn in Nova Scotia, where memories of laughter and pleasant evenings warm a heart on a chilly winters day.

(Photo Credit: laszlofromhalifax on Flickr)

High Summer Days of August

A heady miasma of heat with the drone of summer, settles across the province these mid-August days. It's high summer in Nova Scotia. It's these days we hold close to our memories on the bitter, damp days of late January when the spell of Christmas has long since drifted away.

Cicada's buzz in the trees, the cat's are listless alternating between sun and puddles of shade that offer but only an illusion of coolness. The white sandy beaches crowd, though the people move in a thick soup across the scorching sand to the waiting and ever cool Atlantic ocean.

The air is almost still and the humidity pours through you and out again in rivulets of sweat. These torpid days are golden, just as the setting sun turns the surrounding green a soft yellowish hue. These are high summer days in Nova Scotia and we realize how special summer is, despite the heat we are not used to. The flowers in their fine full plumage, the grass tinged with brown. The ice cream shops will be bursting with giggling and laughing children vying for the most exotic of flavours and the biggest scoop possible please. Then darting their tongues as fast as they can to lap up the quickly melting treat!

Ovens remain shuttered in kitchens while BBQ's surge into life and steaks, hotdogs, hamburgers and chicken sizzle over their grills. Beer bottles pop and soda's for the kids are guzzled down in quenching gulps. A cool, fresh salad full of crisp vegetables from the Annapolis Valley farms or perhaps a chilled muscat chardonnay from Gaspereau Valley Winery to calm the palette?

Perhaps we enjoy these heady, hazy high summer days so much for they are so precious to us in January.

(Photo Credit: laszlofromhalifax)

The Clouds of Nova Scotia

Clouds. Yes, we get our share of them in Nova Scotia, but as we say around here "if you don't like the weather, wait 15 minutes..." it's close enough to true. Part of the distinct advantage of living on the coast of one of the most dynamic oceans in the world.

As I looked at the clouds in the setting sun yesterday evening, I realized why so many artists have been inspired in this province hanging by a thread off the eastern edge of Canada. The warm haziness and soft yellow of the sun dappling the backyard. If clouds could smile, they must have been, with the sun tickling their bellies in the fading day.

The clouds in Nova Scotia seem to set a tone everyday. Large and bulging with the threat of rain, scattered and loose like escaped cottonballs or stretched and thin with neither promise nor mirth. One minute you'll feel the drama set by the clouds and the next they are wistful.

Inspiring either way. Just one of those small things in this little place off the Atlantic...

(Image: Courtesy, "Dave the Haligonian" on Flickr)

Of Airports and People

As I wearily rolled my luggage out the front door of the airport in Halifax heading for the Park n fly pick-up, I breathed in the tang of fresh air with a hint of ocean. You don't get that at SFO or O'Hare or even Toronto or Montreal. It's that gentle scent of Nova Scotia that reminds me I'm home.

What really struck me though, was the older couple standing on the sidewalk, well, the fellow was in a wheel chair. They were talking animatedly. As I walked past the woman looks up at me with a big smile on her face and says "dear, how many loonies in a roll? Is it twenty?" I nodded and replied I think so, I wasn't sure.

She had no idea who I was or even if I was Canadian, let alone spoke English. But she asked. Just like that. I was drawn into a conversation, asked in that way to take part. There are precious few places in the world today where that happens. Certainly not in a major city in the U.S. or Canada. But then, Halifax is a major city on the Atlantic coast. Sure, less than a million people, but still not a small town.

It's just one of those things. People here will share something with you, a way of quickly connecting. And it seems that more often than talking about the weather, we like to share a little joke or amusing quip or settle a friendly debate. Human connections. That's Nova Scotia, that's Atlantic Canada.

Spring Carpets of Blossoming Green

Nova Scotia in spring, like all seasons, there is always something special. Living off the Atlantic coast, we get to see dramatic and swiftly shifting skies, raging tempests and a new patchwork of nature's art every day. Spring is no exception.

While the winter harbours many novel sites and the gentle fall of snow can be comforting, nothing renders an uptick to the heart like the blossoms of spring on the trees, bushes and lawns of the city and countryside. The ancient and heavy oaks of the city's south end drape across the street, seem to burst with glee as they open their leaves.

The Queen Anne's Lace and Lilac trees seemingly chuckle as their leaves unfurl and the blossoms push up. Tulips wink from flower beds and the willows on the bend sway as if singing the coming of summer. Standing on a hilltop looking down Halifax harbour or driving across the bridge, one sees the multitude shades of green around the basin. The alders and saplings blush red with the warming of their veins.

Yes, spring in Nova Scotia, it's a heady mix.

Halifax is Like Shuffle on your iPod

One of the reasons I like using shuffle on my iPod or iTunes is that you can set a bunch of music to the mood you're in, and let's face it, different weather invokes different moods. And different moods are a great break up in what would otherwise be a monotonous life.

Halifax is like having shuffle for weather. It changes often, and so you can shape your music to the mood that suits the weather. And isn't there some kind of pleasure in that? A rainy day might inspire some kind of cooler or chilled music, while a sunny day may inspire a good rock n roll tune. No matter your taste, I suspect we all associate different kinds of weather with different music.

Just one of those little things that makes Nova Scotia an interesting and inspiring place to live. A place where moods, weather and life can be as exciting and unsuspecting as hitting shuffle on your iPod.

Do you change your music with the weather?

The Sweet Treat of Spring

In the deep dark of February I'm like many Nova Scotians - take me down south for some green and beach time. And who doesn't deserve a little break from winter? Yet living in such tropical climates would mean sacrificing perhaps one of the best things about Nova Scotia - the ever changing seasons. Even perhaps, how you can have little morsels of other seasons in the middle of a season.

Like a day in mid-January when there is no snow and the sun shines warm and the day hints at the coming of spring. Our hearts leap a little and we bask in the warmth for a day or two. Or in high summer when a day cools down with an ocean breeze and you reach for a light sweater and suddenly your looking a little forward to autumn. To drives down to the Annapolis Valley along the Bay of Fundy as it blazes in colour.

As spring eases in we witness the splendour of new growth, flowers bursting with the little hiccups of crocus' winking of the summer to come. Tulips tease with their green tendrils before exploding in colour on front lawns as you whisk by houses in the city. Even for a brief week or two we smile at the dandelions - before we have to pluck them from our lawns.

But this is just another part of what makes Nova Scotia so special; the swiftly changing seasons, the atmospheric days and climatic synergies that roil across the year.

(Photo Credit: Baroing on Flickr)

The Sweet Ocean Embrace

I've been fortunate enough to visit just about every continent on this planet; over 90 countries in my life so far. Deep into the interior of Africa, across Asia and all over Europe...even climbing the heights of the mountain road from the airport near Caracas up and then down into Caracas in the wee hours of the morning...and being held at gun point in the jungle in Venezuela. All sights and sounds vivid in my mind.

But one of those most poignant elements of life in Nova Scotia is the intoxicating scent of the sea on a foggy or rainy day. As winter ebbs into spring and the rains commence, the snow fading from mind and eye, you can sometimes scent the salty sea on the air. Somehow it is comforting, a gentle yet ever present reminder that you are alive.

As beautiful as Canada is in the West, it is the siren call of the sea on a foggy day, the miasma of the mists carrying the oceans whispers. Standing on a dock on the harbour, one almost feels the presence of the old fishing fleets and ancient naval vessels that plied these waters centuries before. The history is rich and these scents of the sea are what tell us who live here that we are home and embraced by the ocean we live and play beside.

(Photo: Courtesy cmcsailor's photostream on Flickr)

Discovering Nova Scotia Gems

Yet another one of the great little things I love about living in Nova Scotia is the way you can stumble across talent in the real and virtual world here.

Tonight I was going through my Twitter "follows" of recent and came across a very talented Nova Scotia artist. She's active on Twitter and on the Web...because of Twitter, I was able to view, and admire, her work. Her name is Mary Ann Archibald (her painting picture left, and hope she doesn't mind me putting it there!) and she has quite an accomplished career behind her.

From spring through fall I drive all over this province with my camera and go hiking, ready to shoot a shot of a unique spot or a stunning seasonal moment..and sometimes just the bland moments in our lives. Yet as you drive the winding roads of Nova Scotia, and we have some great twisty roads, I like to rev my Jag down into low gear and howl it out onto the tight corners, you can also discover highly talented artisans.

In fact, Nova Scotia seems to have sprouted quite a few artisans judging from the Studio Map a good long-time friend and associated gave to me recently. This coming spring/summer I'm going to be sure to explore the artisans in our province more. The few times I've stopped into a gallery I've enjoyed some great chats and even ended up purchasing a few pieces here and there.

There are so many gifts this little province offers that we miss when we're not looking..online or off!

Ocean Jewels of Winter

The Atlantic is, as many a sailor over as many centuries will attest, an unforgiving mistress. A tempestuous and roiling body of water, rarely at rest and even then her waves crest and roll. When the Atlantic howls with a furied storm, the waves crash resoundingly onto the shoreline, frothing and rolling, tossing flotsam and driftwood about like leaves falling in the autumn winds.

As the ocean settles from a tempest and the seas fall away and ease off again, one notices a beautiful sight. For despite her anger and tantrum, the oceans swells leave what I have come to call the Jewels of Winter...rocks covered in thick ice. Sometimes sparkling, at other times a dull pearl awaiting the hand to polish.

These jewels are fleeting for the most part. Delicate lights, fragile, yet hopeful. They drape over the rocks or rest like a blanket of pearls...soon to be taken back by the ocean, claimed as if such jewels were a taunt of the mistress of the seas. But as they stand in the bright light of day winking and sparkling, one cannot help but catch a breath and take a picture.

The Symphonic Sounds of Winter

Winter. A word that sends shivers down the spine and the eyes to burning embers at the thought of shoveling. Perhaps so. As opposed to the other seasons it represents challenges of getting to work, driving accidents in storms, sudden freezes and thaws with black ice.

Yet there is one aspect to winters here (and most parts of Canada I'll admit) that I treasure every year as it is the equivalent of a basso note popping in a symphony - snapping sap. Should you stand outside in the quiet of the night when the temperatures crash to the chilling wee hours of the night, listen to the trees. A slight breeze will bring them on...snap! pop! thunk!

As the temperature falls, so the moisture, usually sap, freezes under the bark. as the tree moves gently to the breeze or the moisture burst under pressure of the bark, the tree snaps! In a small wood or the forest that surrounds you, as the moon rides high and the stars glitter like an audience in heaven, the snapping trees add a light hearted pop to the cool, deep nights.

It is one of natures many symphonies that draws me to Nova Scotia.