I always tried to plan one of my trips during the year to ensure we could capture a few blueberry picking sessions. All manner of berries abound – partridgeberries, bakeapple (cloudberries), cranberries – but definitely blueberries are my favourite. They freeze well and are delightful for making banana-blueperry pancakes, cheesecake, muffins, lemon/blueberry donuts, you name it…
I was fortunate this year, despite coming later than usual, to find a few still around – and of course I took advantage of the opportunity!
I was born under the star, never meant to journey far From all the faces and the place that I called home; And my father lived the same, and his father before him, But now I see in my son’s eyes something has changed.
And the smoke it has stopped rising from the chimney up the road, And the light no longer shines over the door; Last year I lent a hand to haul the boats onto the land, They’ve been lying there for nineteen months or more, And I wonder will they lie there evermore?
Wasn’t many years ago that the men ’round here would go Out in their skiffs and haul their traps out on the bay; And then shortly they’d return loaded down from stem to stern, And weigh off the fish, and store their gear away.
Now the waters are as barren as the cliffs that guard the cove And catch the north wind blowing off the shore; And I wonder how an ocean turns as lifeless as a stone, And I wonder can the sea revive once more? And I wonder will they lie there evermore?
Well, I hear some people say we’d be better off to stay Ashore and train for jobs outside the fishery; Now wouldn’t I look like a fool to go traipsing off to school, After forty years of living off the sea?
Now, my son, he’s barely twenty-one, and handy at the trawl, For years he helped me fish the Labrador; Now he’s moving to Ontario before the first snowfall, “Dad, there’s nothing left for me ’round here no more.” And I wonder will I see his children born? And I wonder will they lie there evermore?
Here’s a link to this sad song of the demise of the Newfoundland fishery, sung by the beautiful voice of Con O’Brien (Irish Descendants) …. enough to bring a tear … https://youtu.be/sWomh7cogK0
“My Mother … She is beautiful, softened at the edges and tempered with a spine of steel. I want to grow old and be like her.”
I remember how my mother’s eyes would light up when I told her I had “bought the tickets”. Like me, she could never get enough of Newfoundland. She loved the freedom, the friendships, the food, the fun, the fresh air, the fish and chips ….
It was a hard day, when I realized packing us up to head back to Ontario in May of 2018, that she would likely never be here again. Yet, when I come, she is always in my heart and in my thoughts, as I visit all her favourite places, and fondly remember the joy she found in the simple things – walks on the beach with our beloved dogs, day trips with picnics, berry picking, boat rides, whale watching, and chatting with folks we met on our way.
And so it warms my heart to see her sporting her Route 235 shirt – she loved that drive with all her favourite places – Tickle Cove, Keels, King’s Cove, stopping in to see our friends at Round Da Bay Inn, and my “highly smiley” shirt is a poor comparison to the genuine smiles she always shared with everyone.
Love you Momma, always and forever…. rest your weary head on me anytime…
“In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must also be present.” (Francis Bacon)
This lighthouse holds a very special place in my heart. Overlooking Rocky Harbour in Gros Morne, it’s a great place to visit and enjoy the most spectacular sunsets in Newfoundland.
It has a special mood, whatever the weather, a place unto itself, that draws you into its “shelter from the storm”. Windblown tuckamore clings to the cliff edge, and the washing of the tide on the shoal below makes dramatic music for the listener. Drive slowly, for you just might see a fox or moose as you head out in the last of the evening light. It’s been known to happen.
I’m usually posting photos of the scenic outdoors in Newfoundland, or wildlife/birding experiences, but I thought I would share a little of the indoors of my Newfoundland, for which my site is named.
From when the door first opens, it’s like a giant “hug” of home… I’ve enjoyed it in quietness, with the companionship of my beloved Mom, hosting friends around a good meal and great conversation, and let it be used by others for their honeymoons or respite times.
I am a sentimental girl, and surround myself with memories of happy times, special adventures,, serendipitous finds in little out of the way unique shops, and a world of art that has so much more meaning because of who created it or gave it to me, knowing I would appreciate it.
Like this special painting of Long Point Lighthouse, Crow Head done by Fenella Smith, who resides in the community I manage. This was a mother’s day gift to Mom, as it was one of her favourite places to visit and watch for whales.
Or this one Mom bought for me as a birthday gift, of a delightful scene in Salvage, another of our favourite hiking places, painted by Elizabeth Burry, who has a lovely studio shop in Trinity.
This stained glass piece was commissioned by me from a lovely glass shop in Chapel Arm, which sadly is no longer there. It depicts all my favourite things – seagulls soaring above the waves, icebergs, whale tails and of course the proverbial lighthouse.
When I view the handmade items, I can recall, usually, from which shoreline the shells or seaglass were retrieved, or how I finished a hike with pockets bulging full of “osie eggs”, driftwood, cork floats, windblown feathers, unique beach rocks, etc. and love to remember who was with me at the time, if anyone – special moments with Mom, which dog was playing at my side or a quiet moment with my own thoughts in the sea air.
I loved to add elements to Mom’s white and blue room, a treasured bottle, a pewter knick-knack, an embroidered quote. She always loved to retire to it at night early to spend some time reading and enjoying before sleep enveloped her, and she loved to wake up in the morning to the sun shining in. The antique rocker was a rare find in a lovely shop – the owner wasn’t sure it was for sale, but I managed to secure it – such a wonderful addition to my home!
Mom’s room also houses some of the quilt collection … lots to choose from and cuddle up with!
The living room is also blue and white, with many books to choose from, wonderful dimmer lighting, and comfy furniture for a nap or a read. The dolphin box I managed to buy from Creative World in Clarenville at half-price, and stores all manner of maps, hiking books and tourist info for the wanna-be wanderer…
It houses a painting I bought down in Rockport on a vacation with Mom – I don’t even think I was out of my teens. It was $20, and I never had anywhere special to hang it for another 20 years, but still love it’s calming scene and the room embraces it.
There’s not much wall space still vacant … lots of photographs/trinkets on my gallery wall, the beautiful shelving done by a local carpenter who built the kitchen cabinetry in this home long before I owned it. I am a proud owner of the delightful folk art of Ben Ploughman (his studio in Port au Choix is an awesome place to visit and you’ll leave not only with his art but a good old Newfoundland tale or two from the owner). A brass bird picture reminds me of my beloved maternal grandma who did a number of these pieces – always busy with her hands – guess she passed that on to my dear Mom, and me! I’m also enchanted with Chris Rickett’s paintings – Chris is from King’s Cove and owns the amazing Round Da Bay Inn together with his lovely wife Karen.
The dining room has another unique shelf made for the room (you can never have enough shelves!), filled with travel treasures as far afield as Pakistan and Jerusalem, and the soft yellow walls are adorned to please the eye of those waiting between dinner courses!
Pull up a chair in the family room, it’s bountifully filled with treasures depicting puffins, whales, shells, moose, boats, port-hole clock (not that we track time time here!), antler and whale-bone carvings, lighthouses, saltbox houses, caribou, and all things wild and charming…. complete with my dear father’s binoculars in their old leather case – I well remember him using these on our Algonquin trips, and now I can use them to scan the coast – he would have loved to use them here as well. It is also very special to have my dear friend Graham’s painting on the wall (one of a few I have), depicting an old shelter in nearby Jamestown which is no longer there. Sadly, Graham’s eyesight is also gone so the value of the painting is intensely increased for me.
And when the day is near its end, a hot bath surrounded by coastal elements awaits, and then it is off to bed to rest before another day begins.
One of my most treasured items is a crocheted blanket Momma made for me when I first bought this home. To sit beside her as she made it, using colours I had chosen, and see it be created by her awesome, aged hands, and to have it now and remember all those hands did, not only for me, but for others, is special indeed.
And that, my friends, is a little excursion into what makes this my “Sanctuary by the Sea”…
Nothing like a drizzly day in your home by the sea to make you feel deserving of staying in pajama pants all day … especially ones covered with whales! Feeling totally justified …
Tucked away at the end of Port au Choix down the Point Riche Rd, you will come upon this scene, literally “at the end of the line” … any further, and you’d be into the Atlantic. I was so grateful they have finally paved the road all the way in now, as its gravelled, pothole-ridden predecessor was a little sketchy even on 4×4 tires; however, it has lost some of its mysterious charm on the way in!
They say “nothing burns like the cold”, and it is often true here … you step out of your Jeep and my goodness, you hold onto that door because it will slam open with the gale and you’ll be heading to a body shop for repairs, even on a mid-summer day that wind keeps on kicking… Seems fitting though, the grey day and the moody weather, hauntingly lonely and yet beautiful in its own way.
It’s a towering sight though – 19 metres tall I believe, and was built in 1892. Still active today, though I have a feeling all who sight it from a boat are more “blown in” than “guided”…
Mom and I were always so thrilled to come across caribou in our wanderings around the island … be it the ones hanging out down at Trepassey, or those kneeling for a drink at Western Brook Pond.
I was chilled to the bone this day at the limestone barrens of Point Riche Lighthouse, where little but tuckamore and lichen grows, and the wind can whip over the rocks to send you back to the warm comfort of your Jeep in a mighty hurry. However, I braved the “blow” with my long lens to capture this herd in its natural element.
The “Grand Master”, as I called him, was a magnificent specimen of “toasted marshmallow” colouring, with all the requisite prowess and points accompanying the title.
Despite the panoramic landscape, he hardly seems dwarfed against it.
I apologize for the slight camera shake, but the winds were combative and my fingers were numb, Bella safely enjoying the warmth of the Jeep seat. The caribou didn’t seem to mind the cold one bit.
It was a magical, unforgettable moment. Wow … just wow!
“… they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31
Though owls are my true favourite, I always enjoy the eagles I see here. Last year at this spot, I enjoyed watching a family of 4, two parents and two juveniles. This day, I only saw the one juvenile.
You can understand the reference to the “eagle eye”. So aware of their surroundings, they sit aloft spying for movement, heads turning for a 360 view of all that is going on. They see through the branches and undergrowth, and know just when to lift off, their timing so perfect. Effortlessly, their wing span extends, and just as easily, they land again (not always as gracefully. But they are most impressive, of course, when in flight.
Silently, they go about their business. From time to time they are nagged by cawing crows, often in groups … yet, they soar on and are not disturbed.
sanctuarybythesea 