Sunday Drivers - The Crummy Cellphone Camera Edition

This Sunday Drivers is actually a Saturday Drivers as Kookum wanted to come with us to the Annapolis Royal Farmer's Market.  Because I had not anticipated taking a lot of photos, I neglected to take my Pentax with us and was instead forced to rely on my phone's camera.


Yeah, it sucks.  For that reason, I didn't end up with many quality images. So, you'll just have to come and see the market for yourself. It's amazing!  We ended up with a couple loaves of bread and a plethora of sweets. A palmier bigger than my head! Stone-ground, sprouted grain, wood-oven bread! An apple tart, sticky bun, the most delicious olive bun I've ever eaten and a most fabulous cup of Sissiboo coffee. 

I've not been drinking coffee of late - not any particular reason other than tea has seemed much more appealing. But the Saturday Sissiboo Fundy Storm is something to which I've begun to look forward.  All the flavour of a Starbucks roast, but none of the unpalatable bitterness and annoying stretchy pants.

Annapolis Royal Farmer's Market - The Town Crier
Apparently Town Crying is very big in the Valley. Several towns have their own representatives and there's a competition in the fall.

 Along St. George Street, a bicycle rickshaw filled with violas.

These two fellas were seated outside a shop, working collaboratively. They would take word requests from passers by and for $15 would create poetry and an accompanying water colour.

 The simplicity of the circle immediately drew my attention.  The poem reads:
"Can you burn through silence

with a steady sound?
Over the under,
around and around,
the burning circle
of a heart that pounds
into a rhythm
and out of my hands.
A twitching voiceless fury.
Fear without strength
and weight without worry.
Can you hear the raging quiet?
Between what you mean
and what you meant?
Noise has run from silence
and sound
has all been spent."

I promised myself that I would return the following Saturday, with a word for them to ruminate upon.

 "What use is a fine house if you haven't got a tolerable planet to put it on?" - Thoreau
This fellow was making axe handles by hand at the Sinclair Inn Museum - the second oldest wooden building in North America.

 From the market we toddled over to Fort Anne, which is fast becoming one of our favourite spots. This time we wandered through the Anglican cemetery. The symbols on the headstones were quite amazing.

The Weeping Willow was quite prominent - a symbol of melancholy, mourning and spiritual freedom.

 Angels are quite popular for obvious reasons, but this one appears Haida-esque.

An upturned index finger. I wonder what that means?

Headstone, 1827
Imagine, if you will, carving this intricate script entirely by hand.  Until very recent technology, the stone carver's bread and butter must have been headstones.

 A family united by uniform headstones.

 Rev. Thomas Wood, ministered to the "English, French, German and Micmca" people.  Must have been a pretty compassionate guy to have ministered to such a diverse demographic in such tumultuous times.  Remember that Nova Scotia has been riven by war for much of it's 400 year history.

 Many stones have broken - either at the hand of vandals or Nature.  These last two are from the 1860s.  In Saskatchewan, we think of 1880s as being "old".  But here's some perspective - European people had been living in Nova Scotia for well over 250 years before the west was even settled.  Isn't that mind boggling?

 Nova Scotia was primarily settled by alternate waves of English/Scottish/Irish and French, all of whom displaced the original Mi'kmaq peoples. It would have been rather unusual to see someone person of Spanish ancestry.

Sunday brought more sunshine, which is quite welcome in these parts after several weeks of rain.  I've not traditionally been someone affected by the weather, but after waking at 630, I'd gaze longingly back at the bed by 830am.  And I must admit, there was one or two days when I crawled back in and had a mid-morning nap!

Unlike many folks around here, Sunday means 'work' for us, and we did indeed work! Laur got the brush-cutter out (affectionately known around here as "the zippy-zoomy-thing") and proceeded to brush-cut most of our 100 acres.  Seriously. Truly.  Whilst she was weed-eating slugs and dog poops, Boy and I were busy stacking wood, getting fuel for Zippy, keeping Momma hydrated and.... huh... I can't remember. I know I was busy... I think...hm.

The Boy gathered wildflowers - there are plenty daisies, all manner of clover, wild strawberries, buttercups and two different purple things.  The heady scent of wild blackberries wafted around us on the warm breezes.  It was amazing.

 There are a few logs on The Landing leftover from my spring logging-bee (there are still many more on the hillside).  Apparently this is how we dress when we go hiking these days.  Mr. Daisy-Hat (yes, that's The Boy) took it upon himself to do some balance work.  I'm still in awe of his balancing abilities... and his fashion choices.

Aaaaand my disgusted dog, who says, "WTF, yo! I like to go balancing, too!"

By the way, we have some kind of bird around here that sounds like it's whizzing around in an empty washer on spin cycle. We can't seem to figure out what it is and it's calling as I write, tonight. If you have any idea, any idea at all, what this bird might be, we'd appreciate some suggestions.