What's It All About, eh?

Cape Breton evokes deep memories and strong emotions for me as well as a deep appreciation for the beauty of my adopted island. My hopes are that you too might find the photos evocative - maybe a view you've not enjoyed before, or an 'Oh I've been there', or if from away that you may be encouraged to visit this fair isle so that you might come to love and breathe Cape Breton as I do. One word about place names that I use - some are completely local usage while others are from maps of Cape Breton that I've purchased over the years. I frequently post travel and other photos that are of interest to me - and hopefully you.

On the right hand side bar find my take on Single Malt whiskey - from how to best enjoy this noble drink to reviews (in a most non-professional manner) of ones that I have tried and liked - or not. Also musings, mine and others, on life in general.

Photographs are roughly 98%+ my own and copy-righted. For the occasional photo that is borrowed, credit is given where possible - recently I have started posting unusual net photographs that seem unique. Feel free to borrow any of my photos for non-commercial use, otherwise contact me. Starting late in 2013 I have tried to be consistent in identifying my photographs using ©smck on all out of camera photos I personally captured - (I often do minor computer changes such as 'crop' or 'shadow' etc but usually nothing major), and using
©norvellhimself on all photos that I have played around with in case it might not be obvious. Lately I have dropped the ©smck and have watermarked them with the blog name.

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Drifting Life - Su Shu (Song Dynasty)



和子由澠池懷舊
蘇軾(宋) 
人生到處知何似,應似飛鴻踏雪泥。
泥上偶然留指爪,鴻飛那復計東西。
老僧已死成新塔,壞壁無由見舊題。
往日崎嶇還記否,路長人困蹇驢嘶。

Responding to Ziyou’s Poem: Remembering Mianchi

Su Shi (Song Dynasty)
Tr. E.C. Chang

What is this drifting life like? Do you know?
It is like a wild goose treading on the snow.
Its tracks are left on the soil without knowing why.
And the wild goose does not care where to fly?
A new memorial pagoda for the old monk rises above his burial place.
The poems we once wrote on the ruined wall are gone without a trace.
Do you remember the time when we were traveling on the rugged road?
The lame donkey brayed; we were tired and still have a long way to go.

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