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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Bushy Park 1957

At a small U.S. Air Force barracks in Bushy Park, England.   About eight army personnel like my self were stationed at Eisenhower's old war headquarters there and lived in the small barracks compound with air force personnel.  Here at the back of the barracks a tall wire fence separated us from the cricket field in the distance - notice the cricketers' automobiles in the background.  I believe I was doing an imitation of the Scotch Guard at the time - having drank a good portion of the wineskin hanging from my shoulder.

Up Close

photo by smck©

Autumn Transport

October 2013

MEMORIES OF HORSES AND MORE - 2


This is the second posting - the first was 26 Sept 2013 and was the opening vignette of  the first of a two part series of reminiscences by thePresbyterian minister of the last few years in my adopted home of Grand River, which he had printed in a church distributed little booklet called

 Stirring The Porridge Newsletter
  A cuir mu'n cuairt a bhrochan - thall's a bhog'    Stirring the porridge here and there

of  The Framboise, Grand River & Loch Lomond Presbyterian Pastoral Charge.  Although I am not a Presbyterian I have attended various functions (weddings, funerals, musical presentations etc) there and found Rev Murdock to be one of the nicer persons that I have ever met.  To my great appreciation he included me in the mailings of the newsletter with its newsy contact of the doings of the local area.  His pleasant recollections mirrored somewhat those of my own youth in a different land and climate.

Eventually the full two part article will be accessible as one continuous read - via the right side bar index.


MEMORIES OF HORSES AND MORE - (cont'd)
Murdock MacRae

This is the first of a two part article, which the author hopes will rekindle many pleasant memories of similar events in the lives of our readers. Part 2 will be included in the next issue of this newsletter.  

PART 1 - Vignette 2 
Winters Long & Cold
Rural life of my childhood was relatively simple and patterned around the seasons that came and went with unceasing regularity.  Winter was the harshest. Long and cold the season progressed painstakingly slow. Yet it held its own unique delights.  The loveliness of the countryside mantled in white.  Covered brooks and fences allowing for long coasting runs.   Huge icicles hanging precariously from roof edges. Shimmering hoarfrost reflecting early morning sunlight. Overnight ice sealing the water hole in a quiet brook which had to be broken each day to allow cattle a refreshing drink.    Creeping frost crystals on window panes always fascinating young and old minds.  During the coldest of days one had to melt portals on the icy windows to see outside. Heated bricks tucked in our beds soften the cold that threatened to keep one from sleeping. In the earliest of my years we had no electricity or indoor plumbing save a single water pipe that brought water indoors, first, reluctantly by way of a hand pump that had to be primed and vigorously pumped, and then later by the magic of gravity.  Until my parents had a bathroom installed we responded to nature’s daily call with a visit to the outhouse.  This tall grey edifice welcomed us with a single door that kept others at bay while we contemplated our lot, drawing some meager inspiration from the familiar Eaton’s catalogue that seemed to grow smaller with each visit.  

Moose

August 2013      photo by calum©
Photograph by my son back in August somewhere on the Cabot Trail