There was a big, windy rainstorm here on Friday, and now we seem to have no telephone service. A bit disconcerting, but at least there's still power, internet, and cable... If anyone's been trying to call us in the past couple of days, that's what's up. UPDATE 3/01: It's working again. Not sure what the problem was, but it came back on last night.
Yesterday, after brunch at the Good Food Emporium with our friends Jill and Rebecca, we went for a scenic drive to Lawrencetown Beach. We got out to admire the powerful waves, then continued along the Cole Harbour Road up the eastern shore, where I grew up. The scenery was bleak and beautiful, and it brought back a flood of surprising memories and emotions, some of them pretty grim. Their intensity grew as we continued east through Seaforth and Grand Desert, peaking when the road ended at Lakeview Elementary, the school where I finished third grade when my family first moved out that way.
When we got back, I wrote a long blog post about the trip and my memories. Its general theme was loss of innocence, and it made the point that there is something mystical and dark about the natural and cultural beauty of Nova Scotia's eastern shore, as it embodies a certain amount of violence, death, and even possibly evil. The post was frankly way too severe for general consumption, and also not very well written. And it didn't make it clear that both my childhood and our afternoon drive were enjoyable despite the gloomy undercurrent. Or, rather, the gloom was included as part of our enjoyment.
So instead of a sloppily analytical essay, here are a few haiku which I think give a much more accurate picture of the afternoon. I know I said I wouldn't inflict more haiku on you, but really, if you saw the alternative, you'd thank me.
Clouds after a storm —
The ocean reaches for them,
Salt in the cold air.
Crow in a dead tree
By the road watches our car
Go over the hill.
White ship on black waves:
The front end is supposed to
Go under like that.
Out on the icy
Salt marsh, four Canada geese
Burying their heads.
Sunday, the paint on
My old elementary
School peels in the wind.
It was actually Saturday, but it felt more like a Sunday. Poetic licence.
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4 comments:
I loved your haikus and your description of the drive. I somehow can relate to the feelings. I took a nostalgia trip with linda to many of our childhood haunts and had a similar weird feeling. However, there is something about Nova Scotia which triggers totally different feelings. I also spent part of my childhood in and around Halifax and have some inexplicable feelings of greyness, almost sadness and a wanting to be home safe and warm.
Your phone is still not working! I tried to get you.
Mum
Given the general tenor of the haiku (is the plural of haiku, haiku?), thanks for not posting the essay.
Most elementary schools are freaky. Willingdon in Montreal still gives me the creeps. It may have something to do with rememberances of the societal need to force eager little beggars into the productive / learning (especially quiet and in place) mold. Of course, Nova Scotia in the grip of the endless winter that will continue until early summer breaks forth doesn't help any either.
As to writing, there will be a gift arriving later this month.
DoD
Haiku, I believe, yes.
Childhood will probably always be a strange landscape. I stand by my assertion, though, that there's something particularly dark and creepy about the rural eastern shore, compared with, say, the Valley or the south shore.
What could this gift be? I can't wait to find out!
Patience, old son. All will be revealed in due course.
I have always loved rural landscapes; the "dark and creepy" may be a part of that.
DoD
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