Casa Walsh

It’s time to kick my blog back to it’s classic configuration.

Pictures taken on my walk to work:

And food:

To my four readers, you’re welcome.

Here she is, the Pink House. Elias’s parents bought a little house on a little peninsula in a little fishing village of Gabarus (pronounced by locals as Gaaaahbarus, followed by low chuckling), population 226. No, that’s not an oil rig between the house and the (pink!) boathouse. It’s a well drilling rig.

Here’s what I learned about well drilling: It’s loud.

The drillers used all six drill extensions to get to good water.

Elias and I went for a walk around the property while the drillers pulverized the bedrock.

We noticed lots of giant crab shells and dead jellyfish.

Someone bought the lighthouse property, but no one knows if the new owners will build a house there or just continue to use it as an RV park. 

Among the few landmarks is the backside of the local post office (off to the left of the dock — note the miniature lighthouse). When Jim gets the boathouse boat in the water he can paddle across the tidal river to mail a letter.

The coolest structure on the property is this old, overgrown bunker. It made me wish I were eight years old again. It’s the perfect place for secret kid activities. I suppose it could have practical uses too, like for storing root vegetables, or protection from air strikes.

August in Nova Scotia: The late wildflowers in bloom, the cabin in its new clapboard siding, and the view unobstructed by swarms of bugs. Hey, who’s that on the porch?

Oh, it’s peeler. Enjoying the view of his feet.

Peeler’s parents buddied up to the local jetsetter and scored an invitation on his sea plane for an eagle-eyed tour of the province. They buzzed the cabin. Twice.

After days and days of sitting on the porch and staring at the view (sigh), we decided to go on an adventure. We drove 60 kilometers to the other side of the Canso penninsula to check out the Atlantic Ocean.

The sea was angry that day my friends. It’s amazing how dramatically the landscape changes in just a short distance.

We stayed overnight at the Sea Wind Landing Country Inn at the edge of Charlos Cove, a small fishing village.

The Sea Wind has a little warf and a private beach. We didn’t spend much time outdoors – it was chilly and the rain clouds gathering quickly. And, after a week of heating bath water on the stove, I was more impressed by the shower and jacuzzi tub in our room.

After a bath, a shower, a very tasty dinner and a great night’s sleep we woke up to a glorious day:

I could have sat in one of those chairs all afternoon, but I am a very serious adventurer and I wanted to go to the Grassy Island National Historic Site. I love Canada’s interpretive centres.

At the park we watched a 15 minute video about the Island (the province’s fishing and trading center in the 18th century), looked at some displays of archeological objects and dioramas of 18th century life on a merchant outpost, and then took a 5 minute boat ride to the island.

All this for $2.50 Canadian. And we were the only tourists.

There’s very little above ground evidence of the settlement on the island – some building footprints and stone foundations, a well, and a raised perimeter of a fort. It’s a beautiful spot with abundant raspberries and a great view of Canso.

Next up: The Pink House and well drilling!

… or why I need to have my camera on me at all times.

Among the sweet pickings on Franklin Street this morning — a discarded snare drum with “Hogan Hamfist” scrawled across the skin. Further along the sidewalk I almost tripped over the base drum. Oh, Hogan, sorry your mom finally cleaned out the basement.

… or why I need to have my camera on me at all times.

Among the sweet pickings on Franklin Street this morning — a discarded snare drum with “Hogan Hamfist” scrawled across the skin. Further along the sidewalk I almost tripped over the base drum. Oh, Hogan, sorry your mom finally cleaned out the basement.

I really do try to consume all the produce in my weekly box, but most of the vegetables languish in the crisper until the weekend when I have a chunk of time to do my serious cooking. Last weekend I devoted myself to catching up on housework and rewarded myself with organic treats. No wonder I haven’t updated this blog in a while. I am boring.

Washing dishes and scrubbing the counters (prepping the lab) = tomato and feta omlette with grilled toast

Vacuum the apartment = boiled fingerling potatoes with butter, parsley and sour cream

Organize closet = shrimp in a caper, shallot and orange sauce over linguine

Reading the front page section of the paper first = apple tart

Cleaning up after 48 hours of cooking = glass of champagne and nap, in that order

See you in two weeks!

See you in two weeks!