Sabbatical Journal, Day Five

DAY FIVE

            We had two telephone calls on the cottage phone yesterday, the first by a woman wanting to talk to the person who owns the cottage.  I told her that she was not here.  She then said that I must be a member of the household.  I told her that I was not.  I was not going to give any additional information until she told me that she would call back later to which I told her that I was renting the house she was calling and that the owner would not be back here for at least a month or more.  She thanked me for that information and the call ended.  Then, just a few minutes later there was a call with a recording telling me that I had won a cruise and could find out how to enjoy it at which I hung up. 

            Communication with the outside world is rare now.  The cottage we are renting has no television, no internet, no cell phone service, only a land line which we can use to call back home using a calling card, which we charged up before leaving home.  There is a radio which gets 6-8 stations clearly, with the one which I like best broadcast in French.  There is something interesting about listening to music sung in French.  If you like the music behind the words, you really don’t care what the words are saying.  The station plays a good mix of music, most songs sung in French but also some classical pieces, some that sound new age in nature, even a bit or rap which I would not like at all if it was in English but in French who cares what they are saying.  The music, the beat is nice, so I listen to it.  There are stations that play American music, mostly Country, and a few rock stations in English.  Often we do not have the radio at all, just the silence of the house and noises of seabirds and waves splashing on the rocks as the tide comes in and goes out. 

            It is actually not bad to not have as much news from the world around us.  We never hear about wars or fires or floods or murders or all the bad news we are accustomed to hearing about when we live our lives as modern persons.  We often feel oppressed by the weight of evil and violence in our world.  It is refreshing to be removed from it all for a short time. 

            Even when we go out into the world around us, to tour and look around, we rarely see news broadcasts or read a paper.  We may visit with people on the streets or in towns who are interested in learning what we think about their province and a bit about where we are from.  It is usually very pleasant and the world around us disappears in the friendliness we experience from others who are a great deal like we are even if we do live in different countries. 

            Anne Murray is a product of Nova Scotia.  Her childhood home and a museum dedicated to her life and music is in Springtown, which is about 100 miles from here.  We have been to it once, on our first trip to Nova Scotia back in 2000 or so.  You can learn a lot about her life and what shaped her to be the person and singer she became as you look at the exhibits.  A record she made long ago includes the song, “A Little Good News” which I have on my mp3 player that I use when I walk.  It talks about how depressing it is to daily have our barrage of negatives that come to us through the news media daily.  Then, it says how good it would be one day to have the news reporter say there is little to report that day because nothing bad has happened.  Instead, they report on a county fair, how people have cleaned up the air, and learned to care for one another. 

            Idealistic thinking, for sure, perhaps even utopian, but how refreshing it is now and then to just remove ourselves from the negative influences of the world that shape our thinking and to think about good things. 

            St. Paul told the church at Philippi to think about what is “honorable…just…pure…pleasing…commendable, if there is anything worthy of praise…” (Philippians 4:8)  Think about these things….That is a command, something that must be intentional, and perhaps even intentionally planned to do. 

            It is easy to avoid the negatives that come to us by the way of the media when you are in a place such as we are right now, but when we return to our regular way of life, how will we do it then?  Intentionally, perhaps, and intentionally planning how to make it happen. 

            This afternoon we went for a 2.2 km hike to Delaps Cove, which is about 5 miles down the road from where we are staying.  It is a nice wooded area and the hike took us through woods of maples, birches, and evergreens with many ferns along the way until we reached the shore.  We walked on a path overlooking the ocean which was at low tide so many pools of water stood among the rocks where the water had once stood. 

            We began to hear the sound of rushing water and came upon a waterfall emerging from a canyon.  When the tide is high, the waterfall pours into the water of the bay in the inlet.  Other hikers were down in the inlet area where the water resides at high tide and they were climbing on the rocks and examining them.  We paused to look at the waterfall and take pictures and then continued on through the woods again and back to our car.  We were very tired from our hike but satisfied that we had explored a bit more of the area, earning our dinner to come of scallops, green beans and potatoes with onion and garlic, and oatmeal molasses bread. 

            The sun shone brightly most of the day today which was a treat and a blessing.  The fog has been more common that we thought it would be and we sat on the porch on our chairs and looked out over the beautiful Bay of Fundy watching the seabirds and the activity of people around the boats in the harbor.  It was a very satisfying day.   

Sabbatical Journal, Day Four

DAY FOUR

            “The Lord is your keeper…” Psalm 121:5a

            We have driven over 3500 miles on this trip so far and have had no major mishaps or disorders.  We had a near mishap yesterday while exploring Brier Island.  The island has two lighthouses, one that is on a smaller island near the south end which cannot be reached by a car since there is a small inlet that separates it from the main island.  The other lighthouse, Northern Light, can be reached via a gravel road so we set out for it once we left the ferry landing and drove to where the lighthouse sits on the edge of the island looking out over the Bay of Fundy.  There is the small lighthouse, a building used by the Canadian Parks Departments, and a trail that leads to an overlook covered with rocks and bushes.  One trail departs to go near the water so that when high tide happens it is covered by water.  The main trail leads through brushy country with wild rose bushes that are massive in size that one must go around to reach the point where sea lions are seen now and then in the distance. 

            We chose the brush covered trail and began to walk it, with me leading the way and Doris following with Bo in her arms.  We soon discovered that there are rocks along the way hidden by the brush.  One has to be very careful as one walks in that path with rocks obscured by the brush or one may have a mishap along the way.  We had walked the trail a ways and I discovered the rock and stumped by shoe on it and we decided to return to the car after seeing that there were more people in the distance than we cared to encounter.

            As we returned to the car and were emerging from the brushy trail, but still where there was plenty of grass, Doris hooked her foot on a rock and began to tumble.  She had Bo held in her arms and as she went down she and Bo began to meet the earth and Bo let out a pitiful sounding whimper.  Doris luckily landed on a grassy area and was not hurt and, although we worried about Bo for a bit, he seemed to emerge unscathed also.  He was soon up and walking about and playing after we got back to the cottage. 

            Hazards are constantly in our paths as we negotiate life.  Some are very evident but some are unseen, as the rocks along this trail were.  Some were not noticed until you had hit them with your foot as you hiked along.  Sometimes we were so busy looking at the beautiful scenery around us or smelling the wild roses that we failed to see the rocks in the way of our feet as we walked. 

            Life’s hazards will always be there but as we walk along in life we can depend on God’s grace and mercy to be with us and God’s care to guide us along.  We cannot always avoid the hazards but we can know that if we fall, God will be there to catch us and help us to be lifted up again to walk another day. 

            Today we drove up the coast to Wolfeville passing through mostly small towns and villages, driving slowly enough to really look at them, noticing how much alike and different they are than our hometown.  Most are very neat and clean with little litter anywhere.  Nicely kept homes line the streets.  The people we talked with were very friendly and courteous and very interested in us, in why we were visiting Nova Scotia and in what we do back home. 

            We stopped at a farmer’s market in Kentville.  It is located right in the downtown area on a parking lot reserved for stores normally.  There were several rows of stalls with merchants selling vegetable and fruits from their farms, homemade breads and pastries, and products they had made to sell.  We bought two pints of blueberries, some hand cream scented with peppermint, a loaf of homemade whole wheat bread, and a colorful dress that Doris found interesting.  We also bought some Indian food being sold by a nice lady at a booth.  We asked where a picnic area may be and were directed out of town to an agricultural research center where there is also a picnic area. 

            Finding the picnic area just as we were directed, we enjoyed our Indian lunch out in nature, enjoying the cool air and beautiful scenery around us. 

            Returning to our cottage, we drove into the fog once again as we went over Parker’s Mountain and descended into the Cove.  The fog surrounded us and enveloped all so that we could not see beyond our porch.  This is not what I planned on when we envisioned our time here.  I saw the sun shining brightly as we sat on the porch drinking coffee and watching nature on display before us.  The fog limits what we can see in the cove before us.  So, we still drank coffee and had a pastry to go with it and sat and talked about the fog and the lack of seagulls on the rock barrier in the cove.  Then, continued with life and our enjoyment of where we are and what we are doing. 

            Fog is part of the way of life of being Nova Scotian.  When you live on a piece of land mostly surrounding by water, you adapt and adjust to what is here. 

Sabbatical Journal, Day Three

DAY THREE

            Fog can be very interesting if you really think about it, reflect upon its movements, its coming and going as it does here.  We arose this morning and had coffee and then sat on the porch for a while looking out at the boats and birds and tide that had filled the harbor with water over night.  It was not nearly as cool as it has been in days past, but still cool enough to be pleasant—68 degrees.  It felt really nice to sit and drink in the view as we do a lot.  The fog was light, in the distance, covering only a bit of the hillside beyond the campground that is adjacent to the boatyard.  Then, as we sat and talked and watched the seagulls coming and going, suddenly fog began to roll in from the east, blocking out the bit of sun that had shown through the clouds.  The fog moved in closer and closer, soon covering the campground and the boats in the harbor so that all we could see was just what was directly in front of us.  It ended our interesting view, at least for a while, so we came inside to have breakfast. 

            Life has fog set in like that, at times.  We think we can see things clearly and suddenly our vision is obscured by life’s events and we cannot always see the path that we should follow or know the course to take.  Life’s fog is more like the kind we experience here than the kind we have back home.  This fog rolls in, with waves, like the waves of the ocean.  It comes in covering land and sea, making it impossible to see man or beast or landscape. 

            Once the fog has set in, one wonders why continue what you are doing and why not do something else.  The fogs in life send us in different directions to take courses we had not planned otherwise.  The fog may come in the guise of an illness, ours or others for whom we are caretakers, or an issue we may have to deal with—a job change, a family crisis, a new opportunity.  We may not know the course to take and we may sit idly for a while, just as the boats wait for high tide to return before they can go back into the ocean to work, but suddenly things change for us and we see what must be done. 

            The fog here clears just as quickly as it comes.  It does not linger, as the fog back home does.  Instead, the waves of fog roll on and dissipate, allowing the sun to shine once more to reveal what had been hidden by the fog.  Our lives that are fog-laden by life’s challenges are cleared as we seek hidden truth that will bring about the focus we need.  It is our seeking the way that brings about the answer.  God is always present, ready to guide us, but we often do not include God in our plans.  We want to work things out ourselves and turn to God only when the way becomes so dark that we cannot see anything that will work for us.  Then, we pray. 

            Lighthouses are numerous in places with much shoreline and with a large industry that involves boats.  Even with modern technology assisting the boating and fishing industry, lighthouses remain active in many locations to add a visual dimension to the technological inventions that make life better for those who work and play in boats.  There are several lighthouses within thirty miles of where we are staying.  Here in Parker’s Cove there is not a lighthouse in the traditional sense.  There is simply a tall pole with a blinking green light on it that comes on around dusk and turns off around dawn.  The green light blinks off and on all through the night and, I assume, it is there to let boats that may be seeking the harbor here in Parker’s Cove to find it, to know for sure that it is there, despite any other equipment they may have that directs them in the path they should go to reach shore. 

            The odd thing about the green light on the pole, though, is that it is obviously on a timer and goes off in the morning despite the fact that the harbor could be fogged in, as it was yesterday and today.  The blinking green light could be very useful to some who are looking for a signal from shore that Parker’s Cove is here with a dock to anchor a boat.  It turns off around daybreak, though, even if it is foggy.

            We often look for signs to guide us when the fogs of life set in and something they are not always there.  There are times when the usual signs do not appear to us and that are when we must raise our awareness to the world around us to experience life so that it speaks to us in our guide to know the way to go.  Things that in the past have served as markers for us, people or places or things, may not speak to us in the usual way and we may need to keep our eyes open for new understandings or relationships that may give us a fresh approach to the world around us and to our life’s situation.  We can never know what exactly may speak to us at any given time. 

            “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22-23)

            There are two islands that connect to the mainland just west of Digby.  The land that stretches from Digby is called the Digby Neck.  When you reach the western end of Digby Neck, you have to take a ferry to connect to the next island called Long Island.  Then, you must drive to the end of Long Island to the community of Freeport to take another ferry to the community of Westport on Briar Island.  Timing is everything when you reach the end of each land mass and need to get to the next one.  The ferries are timed to leave to go west so that a person can drive from Digby to the end of Digby Neck and catch a ferry that leaves on every half hour and then be able to drive to the end of Long Island and catch the next ferry on the hour.  If you miss the first one, you have to wait an hour to catch the next one because they only run once an hour from each direction.  The ferries run 24 hours a day but only once an hour in each direction. 

            This setup does not allow for any exploring on each island unless one determines that they do not need to get to a ferry in order to connect to another one in any certain schedule.  One can spend as much time anywhere one desires but with the knowledge that the ferries will be there only at certain times.  It sounds tricky but when you understand the system it is practical to have it work the way it does.  It can sound daunting to try to get to each ferry on time but it does work out well if you just drive through from one ferry to another or if you look around and not worry about the schedule and just enjoy the surroundings. 

            I have always had a time anxiety problem.  When I am pressed for time, I usually get very anxious.  When there is a schedule to be kept, I want everything to be taken care of so that the schedule will fall into place as planned.  I once would plan vacations where we had to be at one point at a certain time in order for the next thing on the schedule to work out.  It caused me great stress if we were running late and there may be the possibility that we may not reach the destination we had planned to reach.

            In recent years I have become much better at not being on a schedule all the time and allowing myself to enjoy the scenery on the journey as well as being at a certain destination at a certain time.  The journey itself holds as much satisfaction as getting to a certain place.  There is much to be seen and experienced along the way. 

            This trip, so far, has been very pleasant and low stress.  Even when we were stuck in traffic in Toronto I did not feel panic or stress because we did not have to be someplace soon.  We had plenty of time to enjoy what we were seeing around us, even if it was the rear of another car sometimes. 

            Life is sometimes a race, not a journey.  There are times when we seem to rush from one thing to another in order to reach some goal we have set.  That is not always bad but it is not always necessary.  There are times when we need to let the scenery pass by as we travel and simply admire it and enjoy it and see the pleasure we can gather from being a part of it.  We all need to stop and appreciate what and who is around us as we make our way on the road of life, giving thanks for the opportunity to be part of the great highway of life.  

Sabbatical Journal, Day Two

DAY TWO

            Fog had set in overnight.  The tide was out and the little boats sat in the mud once again.  The fog comes in waves and cycles, giving you the impression that soon it will clear.  The sun is barely visible through the clouds and you can see the fog seem to want to disappear, only to roll back in with another wave of mist.  The fog seems to descend from above and move with a motion instead of simply being there as we have back home.  The fog covers everything and at times we could not see the small harbor in front of us because of the denseness of the fog.  We could hear the sea birds but not see them. 

            A family of pheasants scurried by, three to four babies and the mother close by them and the larger male with a green head and a white ring around his neck.  He went off into the brush, leaving all of them to fend for themselves.  Of course, he may have been trying to attract our attention so that we could not notice his little family as they also took to the brush to hide and look for breakfast. 

            We had coffee on the porch to meet the morning even though we could see little of the scenery around us.    The day felt lazy, perhaps getting rested from the long journey we made to get here.  We did little for half the day and then after lunch drove over to Annapolis Royal to walk around and see if we could pick up the Wi-Fi from a business, which we did.  The cottage has no Wi-Fi as well as no television and a radio that picks up several stations in English as well as French.  We can do without television fairly easily but it would be good to hear the weather forecast now and then.  So, we found Wi-Fi that a restaurant provides and it could be picked up even out in a park near it. 

            We walked a boardwalk near the water and looked around town a bit and then drove back to the Cove where it was noticeably cooler than it had been in Annapolis Royal.  It is interesting how just driving 6 miles from the two places you can feel the change in the weather.  It was in the low 60s when we left Parker’s Cove and it was around 75 in Annapolis Royal, just 6 miles away.  It has something to do with there being a mountain to cross between the two places.  It may have to do with our being near the ocean here and in a pocket between mountains and ocean.  In any case, it is very comfortable here with cool breezes off the ocean. 

            Scallops….how we love them.  We had them again for supper today.  Pan fried with some potatoes and a salad with them, again.  We may tire of them before we leave but as of now, we crave them each time we can have them.  The cost of scallops is so reasonable in comparison to what we pay in Austin when we buy them.  We paid $6.99 a pound yesterday for medium size scallops and in Austin the large ones cost $25.99 a pound if you can find them.  Even the large ones here are half the price of the large back home.  Maybe that has something to with why we eat so many when we are here….you have to enjoy them while you can when the price is right. 

            We saw a lobster boat come into the cove today to be unloaded by a truck sent from the seafood sales shop across from the wharf.  We watched it come into the cove since the high tide was in place and thought they would unload a boat load of lobster only to find that the lobster traps they unloaded were empty.   The boat crew as well as the land crew sent by the seafood company worked for hours to unload the empty traps and other equipment.  All we can guess is that the boat crew did a job for the company here and used their equipment but took the lobsters elsewhere and now they were returning the equipment for storage.  We watched their progress in the afternoon until we tired of it and found other things to do.  

Sabbatical Journal, Day One

Sabbatical, 2014

Nova Scotia, Canada

            Return to Parker’s Cove….we arrived on Sunday, just after noon.  The little cottage we had occupied for a week three years ago looked much the same to us.  We quickly became familiar with it once again, bringing in load after load of supplies we brought with us from home, filling each space with things we felt we would need for almost a month of residence here.  We had stopped for food supplies in Digby and brought those sacks and others brought from home to fill the cupboard and fridge. 

            The cottage became immediately familiar to us once again and we sat on the sofa for a while and stared out the large window that faces the bay.  Then, suddenly hungry by all our activity, we shared the rappie pie that we had bought in Clare before coming to the cottage.  Rappie pie is a specialty prepared by the Acadians of Nova Scotia made up of potatoes that have been grated and mixed with chicken broth that are layered into a pan and then meat is added, usually chicken or beef or clams, and then another layer of potatoes is added.  Then the finished product is baked for three hours, beginning at a high temperature and then gradually lowered at intervals until it emerges from the over with a potato layer forming a crust on top and bottom with a middle filled with meat and potato thickened liquid.  We had bought a clam rappie pie and shared it, enjoying the chewy clams along with the potato in two forms. 

            We soon had coffee and were sitting on the porch facing the bay.  We watched the many sea birds—gulls, cormorants, and an occasional heron or pelican.  They sat on the pier in front of us and took turns flying to the rocks where the water had receded due to the low tide.  The fishing boats anchored to the dock sat in the mud, kept prisoner to the tide that was long gone, as if waiting for the water to return to allow them to sail out into the bay once again.  A steady traffic of people walking or driving up to the long concrete pier came by to check on a boat or to take photos or to look out into the bay.  The road leading up the hill echoed the sounds of cars and trucks as they climbed or descended it. 

            It was a pleasant, peaceful Sunday afternoon.  I could feel the tension leave my body as we sat and talked and stared at the ocean in front of us, taking note of birds and cars and visitors to the fishing area held captive by the tide that had taken its leave.  The air was cool and invigorating, a great gift on the first Sunday of August.  The coolness was on the edge of cold; so much so that we both got our jackets we had brought and felt a bit better after that. 

            I can see lessons in the rule of nature in front of me as I observe the changing scenery before us.  Even in the shifting tide there is a truth that comes with water coming and going.  How like life is the water that brings life to the little fishing village.  It is the ocean that is the lifeblood of Parker’s Cove.  It brings lobster and fish and scallops for the fishermen to gather and sell.  It brings economic life for sure but the water itself brings life to all the creatures that share it.  Seagulls rejoice with loud cackles as they dive into the water, attracted by movement that they think must be a meal.  They share the good news with others of their kind so that they can all join in the harvest.  The water begins to return to the cove and the boats begin to lift once again, enabled to go out into the bay if they would desire.  The rocks are covered once again until the next low tide when it will start over again. 

            Before long it was time to begin supper---fish, of course.  We have been enjoying seafood almost daily.  Fish, shrimp, scallops, and lobster are abundant and not nearly as expensive as back home.  We had dinner out the night before in an Acadian restaurant down the coast where we were spending the night before coming to the cottage.  Cuisine d’ Robischeau was the name of the place and French and English was being spoken by staff and customers alike.  We had delicious seafood and chowder and felt very satisfied by the food and the friendliness of the atmosphere.   A band plays there once a week but we were not lucky enough to be there when it is offered.  It is usually full on those nights with tables reserved weeks in advance. 

            I fixed cod and potatoes cooked with onions and garlic for our supper, with a salad on the side.  We ate and were happy to be together in this wonderful place and then took to the porch once again with coffee to watch the sun gradually set.  The cool night air sent us inside and we began to get ready for a great night’s sleep soon. 

Acadian Connection

I wrote this poem while in Nova Scotia after visiting the Melanson Settlement near Port Royal, which was the first French establishment in the new world in 1605, two years before Jamestown, Virginia.  The place is on the Annapolis River where the Bay of Fundy feeds into it, creating a mix of salt water and fresh water.  The Melanson family lived there from the early 1600s until 1755, when the British expelled all of the Acadians from Nova Scotia and other parts of Canada, sending them back to France or to the Colonies where some made the trek to Louisiana to become "Cajuns" instead of "Acadians".  The Melanson family was very large, beginning with a husband and two wives (one of which had died in childbirth) producing 21 children.  From those children, hundreds of offspring emerged over time but when the Great Expulsion happened in 1755 their land was given to British Planters who came from the Colonies to live in Nova Scotia.  When Melansons returned to Nova Scotia years later, their property was owned by others.  Today, an archaeological dig has been done to find many remnants of life in the Acadian time.  The artifacts were taken to the Historical Museum in Halifax.  One can learn about the Acadians from plaques at the Melanson Settlement and see artist's paintings of what life there may have been like during their time.  We spent some time there and hiked out through the meadows covered with wildflowers to a place where the trees guarded the river bank.  It was a very moving experience for me because I am a child of the Acadian experience too, as are many of us with "Cajun" roots.

Acadian Connection

The land, the ocean, the people
People I never knew but feel
Saddened by their fate,
Sent away from their homes,
Their farms, their livelihood,
To Live a life as outsiders,
as strangers,
as castaways,
Until they reached a new land
to start over.
Acadia-the land of their birth
The land they had farmed
And built dykes to keep the ocean away.
Acadia-happy home of their
Ancestors and Children
Now repossessed by the
Conquerors who sent them away.

August, 2014

Summer Highlights

Getting away from our normal way of doing things for an extended period of time is often what we need to energize our bodies and souls.  I just returned from six weeks away, taking the sabbatical that I get every five years--a month of time to reflect, learn, read, grow--and two weeks vacation that I chose to attach to it, so we were gone for six weeks.  Having that amount of time to do other things than I normally do allows me to have a new perspective on life, on ministry, on work, on the community in which I live, and allows me to have experiences that I could never have at home.

I chose to have my sabbatical time in another country but in one that we could drive to.  So, we loaded up the car with all the essentials we would need for our time way, put our little dog, Bo, in the car and my wife and I drove away in late July, not to return until early September.  We set out on the road and drove across the midwest and into the east, fighting the construction zones and other obstructions that could get into our way, until we reached the border between the United States and Canada.  We crossed the border at Niagara Falls, NY.  A friendly Canadian crossing guard examined our passports and our dog's shot record and welcomed us to Canada.  It took all of 3 minutes to get through and we were on our way.  Immediately, we knew we were not in the US any longer as signs are generally bilingual everywhere you look--English and French---and gasoline is sold by the liter, about $1.35 per liter, or almost $6.00 a gallon.  We drove through Toronto to a smaller town just east of it and spent our first night in Canada having a picnic in a park and looking around Lake Ontario.

Then, it was on to Quebec, driving all day in the rain, until reaching the border of the province and being greeted in French only, which became a sign of things to come.  Quebec is home to the proud French people who have lived there since the 1600s.  At one time they wanted to separate themselves from the rest of Canada and become their own nation.  The Separatists, as they were called, demanded for full sovereignty and nationhood, but more moderate forces prevailed and they came out with the French language being used almost exclusively there and with the rest of the country being bilingual.  Today, Quebec operates as a province within Canada as the other 11 do and the residents seem glad to see anyone visit who can spend money with them.  We spent two nights in a nice cottage owned by a couple in one of the only small towns with British roots in Quebec.  It was on Two Mountain Lake which pours into the St. Lawrence Seaway.  Ducks drifted by, sailboats cruised around, and we sat in Adirondack Chairs near the dock watching the scenery and slowly relaxing.

That was until we drove into Montreal to look around.  Montreal is a very large city, and when we had visited there before we had just parked our car and rode their subway system.  We decided that with the use of our GPS we could navigate around town and sure enough we were able to drive around and park and look at things with little trouble.  We drove up the road to Mont Royal, which is the high point over looking the city, and then down to the Atwater Market, where produce, meat, and cheese is sold.  We ate at the market at one of their picnic tables, so that our dog could be with us, and looked around where we could.  Then, we were back to our cottage to enjoy the lake before we moved on to Quebec City and the Isle of Orleans.

Quebec City is the capital of the province of Quebec and it is a beautiful and historic city.  It is not as large as Montreal but it is large enough to cause some concern while driving around it.  We chose to stay at an old historic house on the Isle of Orleans, which is just east of the city of Quebec City.  It is reached by a bridge and has little villages that all bear the names of saints.  The house we rented was at St. Francois.  It is 250 years old and was present on the island when the British tried to burn all the French residents out in the late 1700s after the Acadian Expulsion.  The owner of the house showed us beams in the loft that has burn marks on them that date back to that time period.  It is a remarkable old house and is owned by a very hospitable woman.  We explored the island for two days, looking at the little churches here and there and enjoying some of the local products grown there.

Then, it was off to New Brunswick to continue our journey on to Nova Scotia and to the cottage where we would spend my sabbatical time.  New Brunswick is very forested and has mountains here and there.  It also have an Acadian coastline similar to that in Nova Scotia where one can sample the Acadian culture.  We discovered that it has incredibly rough and rugged roads to drive with potholes that will do damage to your car if you are not careful.  One road was almost 100 miles long with one pothole after the next for the driver to dodge.  We entered Nova Scotia and drove to the area where we would be staying for the next four weeks when I had my sabbatical time.  I will continue the story again, telling some of the things that happened during my sabbatical at the cottage on the sea.

I wrote daily in my journal on my laptop and have 43 pages to share with my congregation and others who may wish to read about it.  I need to edit what I wrote and put it in a form that would be good for readers who may wish to read it.  It was a fantastic experience and I would be glad to share it with others who may wish to know more details about life in eastern Canada.