One Year Ago Today

A year ago today, our household packed into a moving truck, we set off on a new adventure. Our Ford cargo van packed solid with immediate necessities like food, money and clothing, we departed our Ontario home of twenty years in the hills and began our three-day journey eastwards, all the way to our new home on the Atlantic Ocean in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia.

The weather was sunny and the landscape through eastern Ontario and Quebec largely draped in snow. Having skirted Montreal and Quebec City, our first night's rest was at a lovely inn in Montmagny. The second day, we pressed on into the high, open mostly-treed terrain of New Brunswick, all the way to our longtime friends Anna Torma and Istvan Zsako, who live at the border to Nova Scotia in lovely countryside outside Baie Verte. After a bubbly reunion, a hearty meal and a pleasant overnight, we set off on day three into Nova Scotia and then across the Canso Causeway onto Cape Breton Island, rising up in welcome before us.

The drive along the eastern shore of the Bras d'Or Lakes is winding and scenic, offering long vistas. By afternoon we reached Marion Bridge via a dirt road shortcut as the fog filled our vision. Here we picked up our new house keys from Judy Hussey, our real estate agent, and negotiated the last leg to Louisbourg and along the bumpy, pot-holed road to Little Lorraine. Our house and surrounds sat shrouded in mist, and the boom from the ocean, waves on the beach, salt-tang sea air greeted us energetically.....

And, here we are today, one full year later. We sit, yes, shrouded in mist and the ocean is booming, waves rolling in, fresh sea air filling our lungs. We are ensconsed in our home, looking out in all weathers to wonder at our good fortune to have found this haven. Spring was cool and foggy; Summer took her time to arrive, then passed in a flash; Fall lingered lusciously with extended warmth and colour; Winter has been largely white, punctuated with several snow- and wind-storms. The coast and sea are mesmerizing, continually changing in appearance as the winds rise and fall, the sun comes and goes, the skies cover up and clear, precipitation sets in and tapers, dark follows day, and the tides rise and fall. And a panoply of stars reveals itself by night, as the Milky Way appears to tumble into the sea.

Gundi likes to comb the beaches for purple and green-tinged rocks and pebbles, striated, flecked, weathered, and polished. I tend to sea-gaze, take in the wave action, and scout out seaweeds of all kinds - kelps, dulse, wracks. Each passing storm system washes up a whole new shoreline of deposited plant material, dredged and ripped up from the sub-tidal sea floor. Upon the land, our step springs with the bounce from the carpet of berries, mosses, lichens.

Gundi is always working her hands. She is designing, making, sewing, crocheting, reading, cooking, eating, drinking, exploring.... I find myself drawn to reading, writing, learning, and, lately, growing, gathering, and harvesting food. This act of producing and consuming food locally, in our own community, is vital as we negotiate fresh paths in our common future. 

We have got to know our friendly, caring neighbours, local fisherfolk, farmers, food producers, chefs, community leaders in Little Lorraine, Louisbourg, Albert Bridge, Gabarus, and Sydney; we have established new friendships. Everything takes time and perseverance, especially in this current pause of distanced communication and interaction. We are using this time - while we are precluded from exchanging visits - as an opportunity to connect more with friends and family who live far away. I believe it is deepening our personal bond to each other, our love for each other, even at a societal level. Our heightened vulnerabilities strengthen our empathy.

Here by the ocean, we miss the changing colours of deciduous trees, the folds of the land in the Northumberland Hills, the village of Warkworth, farmers markets and regular customers, the warmth and company of dear friends. I still miss family and friends across the ocean. But, we make our choices in life, and this move to Cape Breton, with its natural beauty, vibrant geography, history, and culture, has been a very rewarding one for us. In a year, we have been off-island just once, to visit with friends and take in the bountiful attractions of our new province of Nova Scotia, over on the mainland. While no man is an island, I guess I always was, will remain, an islander at heart.

Life in Little Lorraine, Year One

We moved here to Oceanside Wild, Little Lorraine, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, Canada on April 17, 2019. We migrated here from our farm property at Rolling Hills Organics in the Northumberland  Hills of southern Ontario. We are now eight months into our new life adventures, and winter is here.... of sorts; with Christmas just a couple of days away, the sun is shining, early dustings of snow have disappeared, the temperature is hovering around zero Celsius, and the sea is eerily calm. Ontario has already experienced waves of snowfall, extreme cold, and thawing melts.

Prior to leaving the farm, we discarded unnecessary baggage accumulated over the years, a dumpster-load which included scads of maps and satellite images from my previous occupation of cartography and map publishing. Farm equipment including two greenhouses, a New Holland tractor, a BCS walking tractor tiller, sundry seeds, tools and farmers market material were passed down to Jason Conner of Windy Hollow Farm who will take up the reins of farming organically, just around the corner from Rolling Hills Organics. Our furniture and belongings were loaded onto a large transport truck and dispatched to their future home on the ocean on Cape Breton Island. We drove our 'Dolly' Ford cargo van, crammed full of immediatelty-useful gear, crossing eastern Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick, mainland Nova Scotia, reaching the Canso Causeway to cross onto the island of Cape Breton. Late winter flurries greeted our arrival in the cove settlement of Little Lorraine and gazed gleefully at the embracing headlands that frame our view of the north Atlantic Ocean.

In our first few delightful months of living here, we have:

taken many walks along this wild coastline; marvelled at the views and ever-changing weathers, seas, and skies; picked berries, harvested seaweeds, collected beach pebbles and rocks; explored our locality (having traded in our 'Dolly') in our Volkswagen Tiguan; entertained six sets of friends and family; got to know many lovely neighbours and locals who have welcomed us warmly; gone on a week's tour (off-island!) of mainland Nova Scotia; made many trips to Sydney for regular shopping and supplies. Sydney is for us here like Cobourg and Peterborough were for us in Northumberland - half an hour's drive away and offering banking, food, drink, and all the amenities and services we need, with the added bonus of an airport! We have registered 'Oceanside Wild' as an 'Ark', seeking to retain our land and surrounds in their wild, untamed state. After all, nature's ebullient canvas is perfect the way it is. Having dispensed with the farm business, we no longer have a tractor to fuel and no farmers markets to drive to, thereby cutting our fuel conumption for transport by more than half. In selling the farm and purchasing a house on an acre and a half on the East Coast for less than half the sales price, we have downsized to enable us to enjoy our years of semi-retirement, investing sensibly and all but removing debt from our lives. In heating the house with a much smaller footprint, we no longer burn wood, but heat by a combination of electric baseboards and gas propane. We have moved to a province that has no nuclear power, is weaning itself off coal while providing households with incentive to switch to solar power and conserve power through energy efficiency and heat pumps. We have signed up to install solar panels on our garage roof with the goal of reducing our power bills to zero in a few years. However, financial prudence - enforced by carefully evaluating our limited savings - is making us cautious about the viability of promised efficiencies. And we are wary of the frequent foggy days, especially in Winter and Spring. We both work from home. Gundi has been inspired to make new smaller sculptures using glass and Cape Breton beach rocks. I grow some greens, herbs, and vegetables in raised beds and plan on expanding these three-fold next year. I am setting up a new business, 'Oceanside Wild Fine Foods', drawing on my experience of organic food and farming gained over twenty hands-on years. On a very small scale, sea greens, sea salts, sea teas, salad greens, wild berries, herbs and spices will find their way to markets both local and Ontario!

In the meantime, I have been practicing by volunteering at the Cape Breton Food Hub, getting acquainted with local promoters, marketers, growers, harvesters, producers, supporters, eateries, and eaters. They are a wonderful bunch of individuals networking well, in tune with the seasons and foods. Through the Food Hub, I met Dave and Jennifer Kyte who moved to nearby Gabarus just after we got here. They moved from the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia where chef Dave ran a food distribution business; Dave is returning to family roots here. In planning a new food business in Gabarus, they have already added a commercial kitchen to their home and are selling breads and dishes at the Saturday Cape Breton Farmers Market in Sydney. Through Dave, we have been introduced to new friends via a cheery bunch of Gabarusers from near and far. Becoming a member of the Foggy View Players, who perform at the Louisbourg Playhouse (modelled on Shakespeare's Globe), gave me the opportunity to help out backstage at their Christmas comedy production which was heartily received. So, bit by bit, we are getting to know our community and the people who make it work. It all takes time, and we miss our friends back in Ontario. But, we are contented in our fresh and wild new surrondings, sometimes giddily so, and are very happy to have made this move when we did.

The Oceanside Sward

The lawn we adopted has bloomed rapidly into a wildflower sward. Various shades of grasses have been joined by oranges and lemons, pinks and purples, whites and reds - asters, bedstraw, buttercups, campions, chamomile, clovers, columbines, dandelions,daisies, devil's paintbrush, eyebright, forget-me-nots, irises, lady's thumbs, strawberries, violets, vipers bygloss, yarrow, to name but a few.... and that is just in the grass. Unmown, left to be, they are growing out in profusion, waiting for the sun to provide the spark for a riot of colour and texture. They have all blown in here on the wind, on their own terms; none were planted on a human whim from a packet or introduced from away. They have chosen this place in order to germinate; this place has chosen to birth them.

A new occupation here will be observing, cataloguing, and selectively harvesting, wildcrafting the abundantly diverse vegetation that only Nature curates. There is, after all, endless choice in the sea greens, berries, herbs, flowers, leaves, roots, barks, fungi that have taken up home all around us here. In their wildness lies the essence of strength and resilience; herein lies concentrated energy, flavour, and nutrition. Theirs is true essential living. Immersed in this vibrant environment, swept clean by the elemental rain and fog, sun and wind, I too find my true home, in a similar climate to that of my island forebears.

An Open Sea

An Open Sea

We look out on an open sea,

a sea of charm, a sea of scorn,

a sea of life, a sea of death,

a sea that rises above the judgements of men.

We live facing an open sea,

a sea that lives in days, as it lives in nights,

a sea that lives in seasons, as it lives in years,

a sea that lives beyond time, in all eternities.

We die facing an open sea,

a sea that rages, a sea that roars,

a sea that is placid, a sea that is playful,

a sea that swirls, and ebbs, and flows, forever.

We are reborn by an open sea,

a sea that turns us mineral, as it turns us vegetable,

a sea that turns us animal, as it turns us green,

a sea that creates, a sea that destroys all that it touches.

There is an open sea, beyond you and me,

a sea that sculpts, a sea that paints,

a sea that fogs, a sea that blinds,

an open sea, at home with the sun, the moon, and the stars.

We Live Here - Cape Breton, Nova Scotia!

We, Peter and Gundi, have moved to Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, on about the easternmost coast of mainland Canada. Our house is perched 30 feet above sea level and 150 feet from the sea, in the picturesque maritime cove of Little Lorraine. 

"Now why exactly would we make this move", (as one person pondered)? Exactly because we fell in love with this property and location as soon as we laid eyes on it. We have long wanted to live beside an ocean that is wild, scenic, pristine, and wondrous. We cannot afford to do this on the west coast of Canada and we are not ready to trade this country for another as home. When we visited last October, we were immediately enchanted by the varied land- and sea-scapes, the friendly welcome from locals, the rich choice of seafoods, and, yes, the 'out there' nature of living detached from the busy world of people, yet belonging to a community of way less than a hundred people. "Won't you be isolated?" No, not really. We are eight kilometres from the nearest large village (as we were before), and half an hour's drive to the nearest large town (again, as we were before). We are within 45 minutes of an airport, right on the ocean, with a thriving local food and farming market easily accessible (online or by weekly pick-up). Family and friends have been overwhelmingly supportive of our move, expressing admiration for our boldness, sense of adventure, and wishing us the best. An element of envy exists, but most show their better nature by being genuinely happy for us.

This move came about very fast as we sounded out the saleability of our farm property in the Northumberland Hills of southern Ontario. We began by advertising Rolling Hills Organics as a farm and business. Seeing strong interest at the advertised price, from two parties in particular, we made a four-day visit to Cape Breton, touring the Cabot Trail in all its Fall colour and glory, and visiting our chosen property. We returned home and made an offer conditional on selling the farm. This offer was accepted! With no firm buyer, we opted to put the farm on the open market, through a real estate agent specializing in selling farm properties to Toronto buyers. Within three weeks, the farm was sold, firm, just before we departed for twelve weeks of winter break on Lake Atitlan in Guatemala. All this happened at breakneck speed. With constant developments, it was hard to keep up with apprising family, friends, colleagues, and customers. Some were miffed not to be the first to hear, or to hear second-hand, or, worse, through the grapevine. We left for Guatemala before Christmas as arranged well in advance of planning to move. We did so with a firm closing date of mid-April for both sale and purchase. We returned home at the beginning of March with six weeks to pack up the household, farm, and glass art studio, and to organize financing, moving, transfer of accounts.

We sounded out the move because we are at the stage of life where we need to downsize and plan for the next chapter while we are still active, mobile, energized, adventurous, and in good health. If I am no longer farming, I do not need a farm property with all its physical demands and upkeep. Importantly, with a strong market demand from Toronto and vicinity, the time is right to sell at a good price. And the time is right to buy at way less than half the sales price in Nova Scotia. Plus, we are following good friends who have made this move ahead of us, and they are all loving their new lease of life on the east coast.

So, Rolling Hills Organics is no more. I will miss the camaraderie of farmers market customers, vendors, and staff. It remains my fervent hope that the pure land that I farmed organically for twenty years will continue to be chemical- free, as it always has been. The new owners seem to be very conscientious in willing it so. They plan on having a pony, chickens, and an apple orchard. A neighbour surfaced over the winter wanting to take on the organic farming, either at our farm or by converting his own family conventional (chemicalized) farm. Jason took on all my seeds, catalogues, and a lot of farm and market tools and equipment. I am flattered that he wants to grow the same salad green blends as I did, marketing them as "Peter's Greens". It may take him a while to get up and running as there is a lot to learn, but I wish Jason, and the farm's new owners, all the best.

Here in Little Lorraine, we are pinching ourselves at our good fortune in finding our dream home on the ocean. The land and sea scapes are constantly changing with the weather and light. I look forward to many years of looking out over the cove, out to the open Atlantic Ocean. We want to explore this wild, rugged coastline, the rocky shores, and the manifold beauty of Cape Breton. This afternoon on this glorious sunny day, we went off on a walk to explore the heralded Gooseberry Cove, brimming with anticipation. And the views exceeded expectations. This is classic, open, wild Atlantic coastline with bold headlands, rocky shore, sheltered coves, and clear waters. The sun danced on a sea pulsing with sound, energy and light.