Day 6 & 8 - Hopewell Rocks

I'm determined to finish this before moving on to anything else!

We visited Hopewell Rocks, a tourist site on the Bay of Fundy, while the tide was in on Day 6, and then again when the tide was out on Day 8.  It was truly amazing.  (If you want more info you can check it out here, as well as any number of other sites.)

Some of these pics are tide in/tide out pairs, some of them show us exploring what is the ocean floor half the day.

These are the actual rocks for which the site is named, right in front of the steps leading down from the land above.

 

To give some scale, here's one with people walking there.  As you can see, the water would be well above their heads at high tide.

Here are the steps you climb down, when the tide is OUT, of course:

 

This pic of my DH shows how chilly it can be down near the water.  (He almost never wears a sweater or jacket.)

 Here's a back view off those steps.  Notice how dry the sand looks in the tide out pic:

 

 We spent most of the afternoon wandering the "ocean floor" with our fellow tourists.

There are dire warning signs all over the place to make sure you don't get trapped somewhere and drowned at high tide:

And a safety platform about halfway between the two access points, just in case.

These are quite scary, actually.  They certainly made us keep our minds on the clock!

All in all, it was an extremely impressive natural display. You can see those tides come in and out all around the bay.  In narrow places it looks like a fierce whitewater river flowing first one direction then, a few hours later, the other.

Well worth the time to see.

Day 4 and 5 - Quebec, New Brunswick, PEI, Nova Scotia, and NOT Newfoundland

The next day we drove through the Eastern edge of New Brunswick, on our way to Prince Edward Island.  This morning was the last time we were dry during the rest of our trip.  Starting about noon, it rained, and rained and rained!

 

We did stop at one of the many covered bridges along the way,

  

more beautiful scenery,

and, of course, different moose warning signs.  :)

Way too late, well after dark, we crossed the Confederation Bridge into the province of Prince Edward Island.  Then we spent another hour and a half wandering around on back roads in the dark thanks to our guidebook giving us the wrong address to our lodgings for the night.  Fun, fun, fun.

In our cottage, we stayed up even later discovering that we'd missed by ONE DAY the ferry we'd planned to take to Labrador/Newfoundland.  This meant, that unless we did nothing but drive the rest of our trip, we didn't have time to go that far.  It was upsetting, but we comforted ourselves by making a firm plan to fly there next summer.  One way or another, we WILL see it!

On the morning of Day Five, we woke much too early to check out of our cottage and check out our location.  Our first daylit view of PEI was the red cliffs of Cavendish Beach.

We went on to get our infamous fox pics

and then drove into Charlottetown to see Confederation Hall.

Before leaving the island, we had to see the famous PEI buffalo herd:

We left after dark, taking a ferry to Nova Scotia.

3rd Day of Our Trip

 After a bit more sightseeing the next morning, we left Quebec City about noon.  The scenery, though impressive, was not too different from what we'd seen the previous day, though we did get closer to real mountains than we've been in a long time.

 In mid-afternoon we passed  a small, insular town that reminded us of David and Harmony, two werewolves from one of our recent games.  There seemed to be two cops for every person, though that wasn't hard to do, and we felt very out of place there.  (Please pardon the slightly blurred photo, as it was taken from the car.)  :)

Here's a shot of "downtown."  Very quaint, very quiet.

We did get some great pictures of fall foliage there,

  

 as well as some interesting cloud shots.

The most beautiful scenery we saw that day, however, was  toward the end of the day, at the edge of Bic National Park. We seriously considered camping there for the night, but it was starting to rain.  Setting up camp in the dark or the rain is no fun, and setting it up in both is just miserable, so we passed.  I wonder if we'll always regret it, though.

Instead, we spent the night in Rimouski, Quebec and enjoyed all the comforts of city life.  :)

F is for Forests

For the Pagan Blog Project:

Growing up in the semi-arid desert of South Texas, the only way I saw forests was in magazines or on television.  Sure, there were small copses of mesquite trees, but no one in their right mind would rightly call these thickets a forest!

The first time I ever saw a real forest, I was in my early twenties.  A friend and I took a road trip up into New Mexico in January.  It was the first time I had seen either forest or any real amount of snow.  Together, they were so beautiful I made him pull over, got out of the car, and stood there at the side of the road and just cried.  (I didn’t know until then that it was true you could shed tears purely from seeing something beautiful.)

The next time I saw a real forest, I was about thirty.  This time, my DH and I flew into Seattle to meet some friends.  Together with them, we drove up to Vancouver to see other friends.  On the way, both my DH and I gawked out the windows and kept repeating, “Look at the trees!” in voices filled with absolute awe.  I’m sure our friends wanted to murder us by the time we got to Vancouver, but we just couldn’t get over the sight of those thick, luscious, unbelievable TALL, trees.

DH and I eventually moved to Vancouver, and I experienced forest after forest after forest there.  Glades and hollows and hidden meadows and, of course, huge, enormous, TREES!  From there, we moved to California, where I wandered amongst redwoods.  Then we came here to Ontario, where the views of autumn are not to be believed.

So, as you might be able to tell, forests are very meaningful to me.  Even when I was nominally Catholic, I always felt I could feel God in the forests.

Then I found Wicca.  Or perhaps it found me.

My religion has grown to all of nature, but forests still hold a special place in me.  I once upon a time thought I could feel God there.  Now, I feel the God and especially the Goddess in those green and red and gold and crimson depths SO much more!  

Whenever I picture Her, She is surrounded by the dark, dark green of deep, old-growth forest.  There is often a stone seat near Her, or perhaps She is standing by a trickling brook, flowing over moss-covered rocks.  A very few shafts of sunlight filter through the thick branches to reach the soft floor.  She wears a flowing, gauzy gown in a shade of green fitting the season, or perhaps in a shade of bark-brown, and despite the darkness of the woods, She glows.  Whenever I walk along a quiet wooded path, I feel Her presence so strongly I feel She is walking beside me.

(I think of Him in the forest, too, but then I think of brighter woods and game trails, and dark nights on those trails.  I think of Him either surrounded by animals, or hunting them, depending on his mood.  Or maybe He can do both at once.)

So, you see, it is no surprise to me that forests are sacred.  Or that I am part of a religion in which they fit so well.  Or that I knew this deep down inside long before I ever heard of that religion.)

The Goddess calls to Her own, after all.

Spring at Last

Spring is busy springing here in Southern Ontario.  We’re actually getting a few days above freezing here and there, even if there is still snow on the ground about half the time.  And we’re actually starting to see more rain than snow, which is a great thing for rain lovers such as DH and me.  As for the animals, Kai, who absolutely LOVES to play in mud puddles, is thrilled, while Lance, who adores snow, is not so happy.  (I won’t mention how hard it is to keep our white-tile kitchen floor clean in this season, LOL!)  Dale and Audrey, being indoor cats, couldn’t care less either way.  :)

Another sign of spring:  Kai’s blowing his coat out, so we’re brushing out another whole dog’s worth of fur every evening.  And there’s STILL fur all over the house, and literally falling off of him in tufts!  It will pass, though.  Lance went through the same thing last year about this time, and now he’s got a beautiful, silky, adult coat.  Come June or so, Kai will also have lost the last of his wool-like puppy fur. 

And I really do like the combination of almost-warm days and still-chilly nights.

Groundhogs, Blizzards, and Spring

Welcome to the Groundhog Day Storm of 2011! 

February 2 is an interesting day for DH and I, even without a blizzard!  Imbolc is often celebrated on the 2nd, as is Groundhog Day and the stolen Candlemas.  My DH and I celebrate not only the day we met, but also the day, a year later, when we married on the 2nd.  This year, it also happens to be the eve' of Chinese New Year (Year of the Rabbit, or so I've heard).  And, just to add a little interest, today there is, of course, the storm.  Whew!

I'm pretty sure we all know about Groundhog Day.  But how many of you know it has Pagan origins?  I'm not kidding!  See for yourself--Google "groundhog" and "Pagan". 

Imbolc is also a Pagan holiday with roots in fertility, weather divination, and looking forward to Spring.  Those who know much more about etymology than I will tell you that the word itself comes from a Gaelic phrase for "in the womb".  This phrase refers to lambs, which are now or will shortly be waiting to be born, as we are waiting for Spring. The Earth herself lies in wait, preparing to burst forth with new life in a few weeks.

Most of you don't know that DH and I met on the internet, long before it was actually cool to have done so.  We met face-to-face when he drove from Dallas to Austin in an ice storm on February 2nd, and we were married a year to that date later on a rainy one.

I don't know a whole lot about Chinese New Year, so I'll move on to the storm.  A blizzard was forecast for last night and this morning, but I haven't checked if we actually made it.  I've seen snow falling harder since moving here, and I've seen higher winds, but the criteria for a blizzard are the durations of both.  The media is calling it the GroundHog Day Storm, and I admit it's a catchy title.  DH and I have never been in a blizzard before, and with our love of winter and of weather, we loved it!

Whatever you're celebrating today, I hope you've had and are having a great one!

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!!!

We got our first snowfall here in Southern Ontario today!  It's not much, and it's too warm for it to stick, but I'm still happy and cheerful about it. 

That first snowfall always puts me in a good mood--comes from growing up without it, I suppose.  I was eighteen before I saw my first real snow--12 inches that lasted all of a day and a half before it melted!  Before that, I'd seen an inch or so just twice in the South Texas town where I grew up, both times falling overnight and melting by noon the next day.  Over the next few years I lived in Austin, Texas, and I saw it again only a handful of times, none of it lasting for more than a day or two. And there was the one glorious time when I vacationed in New Mexico over the winter holidays--when we got to an area in the mountains with 2-3 feet of snow on the ground, I got out of the car and literally cried at the beauty of it.

We didn't get much snow in the Lower Mainland when we lived in BC, either, although the year it fell on Christmas' Eve was truly magickal.  Other than that, one year it snowed for almost two weeks straight--a heavy, wet snow that made it almost impossible to lift a full snow-shovel.  (Those more savvy than I informed me that it was too wet to be "proper" snow.)  But living there, we could drive to real snow--the Coast Mountains are just over an hour's drive away, and the "Ski Hills" are just outside of town.  They're called "hills" because they're so low--the lowest, Grouse Mountain, has an altitude of only 853 meters (2,800 feet.)  With places like the world class Whistler Ski Resort nearby (2182 m (7160') and 2240 m (7347'), respectively, that's LOW.)  Still, there's plenty of snow on those "hills"--it's where I first cross-country skied, where I learned about snow-tubes and toboggans, where the locals go for a quick afternoon's or evening's skiing.  It's not the same as looking out your window and seeing it fall, though.

Silicon Valley, California, was another place we didn't see a lot of snow.  None, to be exact.

And then we moved here, to Ontario.  I saw my first white Christmas here.  For 4-6 months out of the year I can look out my window on any given day and see snow on the ground, if not actually falling.  I can go out cross country skiing or snow shoeing any weekend I want to do so (and since I've been feeling better we might even be able to actually do it this year).  We even bought our own snowshoes about three years ago!

So the locals, who did grow up with it, tend to groan when it snows, but I cheer.  (Okay, if it's still snowing in May I may get a bit grumpy with it, but for a long, long while I love it.)

I don't even really mind shoveling it, that's how much I love it!

On Fire

I've been wanting to get more witchy in my blogging, and now I easily can.  I found Pagan Blog Prompts a couple of weeks ago, and this is the first time I've gotten brave enough to use it.  The current prompt is: 

"Extreme Temperatures

For a lot of Pagans, worship and rituals take place outside when at all possible. What about when the weather is just too hot or too cold to do anything outside? How do you connect with nature when you can't be out in it?"

I have always, always, ALWAYS hated the heat.  Growing up in South Texas will do that to you.  (I used to hate sunny days, too, and for the same reason, but four years in BC's Lower Mainland cured me of that.)  This hate/hate relationship with hot weather never used to bother me, but then I found my true Path.  Now I feel guilty about how I see heat.  After all, Wicca is a nature religion, right?  And it's all about balance, right?  Yeah.  And here I am, dreading the next six weeks or so.

But I do realize that guilt is a Christian concept.  I shouldn't feel guilty about it, I should learn from it.  And so I'm trying.  I'm trying to get out and do more "summery" things--sit out on our makeshift patio, crawl out of the air conditioning and take a walk in the "lovely" heat, grow things in the garden, etc.  I'm trying to relearn how to dress as efficiently for the heat as I used to when I was a kid growing up without air conditioning.  I'm trying to not think of THE SUMMERLANDS as an absolutely dreadful place.

What about cold, you ask?  Cold has never been a problem.  I've always LOVED the cold.  Even if you can't perform a ritual skyclad in it, you can always add enough layers to go out in it.  Again, it goes back to my roots in South Texas--where I only experienced any degree of cold at all a handful of days a year.  My birthday is in January, and I HATED celebrating it in shorts.  I love living here in Ontario, where we get a REAL winter, with snow and everything.

But heat.  Ah, heat.  I am getting better.  I don't hate it as much as I used to.

A Good Storm

I had the tv on in the background, but wasn't paying attention to it or to anything going on outside when all of a sudden the satellite feed went bonkers.  I thought my tv had fizzled up and died, it was going in and out so erratically.  It was during one of the out phases that I realized I could hear wind and rain outside, and it wasn't my tv but the signal.  Of course, my first thought was "I really hope Kai doesn't wake up and need to go outside right now."  But my second thought was "A GREAT opportunity for today's photo!"

I didn't think I had time to find a plastic bag to put over the camera, so I ran to the front door.  I managed to get a few decent shots hanging out of it, including the one I chose as my photo for the 365 Project (see below).  Not to mention it was cool just enjoying the heavy rain up close.  Of course, I did enjoy it a lot closer when I had to take the puppies out shortly after that--it was the wettest my Gore-Tex had been since I left BC!

Day 13 -- Bejeweled

Storms

Today, I thought I'd post a snippet of my response to an extremely well-written article by a friend of mine.  (Which is here.)  I thought I'd just write about my original experience (To read more on it, go here.), but I don't think I'll be able to do it twice.  It was hard enough the first time, so I'll just re-post that. 


[snip]

I too, used to LOVE rain, and especially thunderstorms. Growing up in South Texas, I rarely saw either, so they were both special and appreciated when they did happen. In May of 1997 Central Texas experienced a REALLY bad tornado "season". We were living just north of Austin at the time, and one of those storms came through the area where we lived while I was home alone. (I later learned it was an F3 from a storm that spawned over 20 tornadoes.) It actually went between our house and the next, knocking over the fence and doing some roof damage., but didn't quite touch down, luckily. I spent the rest of that stormy night in fear of the next siren.

To my extreme distress, the next time a storm blew up (about a week later) I was just as freaked out as I was that night. The fear during storms lessened over the next couple of years, but only slowly. When we moved to the West Coast, instead of missing the violent storms I had once so loved, I was actually relieved that they rarely if ever occurred out there.

Eventually I thought I was over it, but then we moved back eastward (late 2004). Our first summer here in Ontario, I basically went through it all over again. As if it had just happened. I thought I'd be scared of thunderstorms for the rest of my life at that point. Luckily, I was wrong, and I did eventually get more or less over it.

At this point in my life, I can sit on the porch and enjoy a good thunder and lightning storm. I can smile and go back to sleep when I hear hard rain on the window pane. But if I'm out and about during stormy weather, I probably watch the skies more than most.

[snip]

Far North

With our love of roadtrips, we got it into our heads to go as far north as we could go by road while staying in Ontario this past Victoria Day weekend. We found a little logging road that headed about 100 kms north of Cochrane, Ontario, and got to the end of it right about sunset.

This timing made the trip back extremely interesting. Especially when we almost hit the moose in the middle of the freeway a couple of hours later. (We didn't, thanks to Don's incredible reflexes). Still, the trip was one of our most successful in terms of wildlife spotting:

2 baby black bears
3 or 4 black bear yearlings
6 to 7 adult black bears
1 Great Horned Owl
3 lynx (lynxes?)
a handful of bunnies
1 white-tail deer fawn
1 adult white-tail deer
And, last but certainly not least,
1 adult bull moose