Saturday, August 02, 2008



We took a trip up to Green Bay yesterday with our friend, Olive. Olive is the kind of person who manages to make lifelong friends where ever she goes so we dropped in on several people who she has met over the past couple of years up in Green Bay. Olives makes these friends mainly by traveling with a cache of homemade jelly and scones in the back of her car. With these items in hand, she gains entry into just about any house she cares to enter.



So, yesterday we had a lovely lunch with a Scottish woman who runs a bed and breakfast in Nicky's Nose Cove, just across the street from the beach. Then we drove over to Harry's Harbour and had a little house tour with Ruby Upwards. She showed us around one of the oldest houses in town. I managed to photograph NONE of it, but it was gorgeous. You will just have to believe me on that one.

Then we headed to Silverdale where we met with Winifred (age 82), Nellie (age 91) and Nellie's son, Howard (age 66) who have a farm there. Howard and I were talking wool (he has sheep that needed shearing). We were just getting into it but the conversation flowed elsewhere and I feel I missed a chance for some local wool - a very, very rare commodity in Newfoundland these days. Winifred told us about how she was excited that there was square dancing at the "Come Home Year" celebration in Harry's Harbour but how, in the end, she chickened out. Howard expressed his disapproval of dancing (too sinful). I thought that Winifred had a lot more she could tell us but Howard's talk of sin put the kabosh on it. Maybe we have to go back and see them again. I want to hear more from Winifred.

Harry's Harbour also has a beach where many of the stones have little holes in them. If you find one with the hole gone right through it is supposed to be good luck, especially against house fires.



We didn't want to take any chances.

1 comment:

Patti Blaine said...

I love your stone photos!

Every time we go to my uncle's in the UP of Michigan, we gather stones. We pile stones. We look for stones with stripes all the way 'round. We fit little stones into the notches in big stones. We look for the stones my cousins and their children have placed and re-placed. Fun, fun stuff.

When I was in college, one of the old guys about campus --retired preacher, then maintenance staff-- would say "dancing is vertical sexual intercourse." Those were exactly his words. He meant that it was terribly sinful, even between married couples. I wonder still where the fear behind that comes from.