"TO THOSE of us who live on the hillside which looks northward across the Basin of Minas, Blomidon is a never-ending delight. It is the first thing we look for when we are returning home. If we are coming up the Valley in the train, we stand in the vestibule, ready for getting off, but craning our necks for that first glimpse of Blomidon. If we are coming over the hills from Halifax, "There's Blomidon!" we shout triumphantly, as soon as we catch sight of it, and we berate the roadmakers who chose a route that dips so soon behind hills and deprives us of a longer look at the beloved landmark.
Outsiders are puzzled, and a little exasperated, by our enthusiasm for Blomidon. They have seen higher mountains. They know of soaring peaks which pierce the sky in jagged and varied outline...
We know that it is not for its height nor its grandeur that we love Blomidon. We love it in somewhat the way we love a grandparent, because it has had a part in making us what we are."
- from Blomidon Rose, by Esther Clark Wright (1957). Illustration by Helen D. Beals.
Last week Sister Silver showed us a work of social anthropology written in the Valley in the fifties. It's an extremely passionate tribute to the land & people of the particular area where we spent our two years "away." The Boy found a copy of this now out-of-print book in the U of T library (although they had to find it and put a barcode on it before he was allowed to take it out of the library.) As you can imagine, it's in excellent shape. I don't know if anyone's ever read this copy.
It's making me very, very homesick. Even when I was reading it at Sister Silver's house in the Valley, it made me homesick. I copied out the above passage and wore it close to my skin all the way home. Maybe I was hoping that the Sprout would osmote a love of the Annapolis Valley. Maybe I'm just crazy.
Our troubles with the Crazy Neighbours continue apace. When we returned from Nova, we were greeted by our Non-crazy Neighbour with the news that the loud dog is now in the care of the Humane Society. Apparently, Male Crazy Neighbour took the dog to the high school field behind our building and abandoned it. I'm torn between relief that the dog is out of his abusive hands and sorrow that it may mean that dog's death.
Female Crazy Neighbour periodically plays her music very loudly, then doesn't answer the door when we knock. Tonight the Boy was strung out with worry about the curriculum materials that he's developing, and he snapped. One phone call to the landlord (a.k.a. FCN's mother) and it all stopped. We took a long walk while it was all resolved, with the rationale that we just don't get outside enough (especially to do healthful things that support my pregnancy). Of course, there was an aggressive, enraged phone message from FCN waiting for us when we returned...but what are you going to do. I'm certainly not going to listen to U2's greatest hits against my will while she hides from the consequences.
I saw Pirates of the Caribbean last night with a bunch of boys. There's a critic whose name I can't recall who identifies Johnny Depp's performance as a Pirate Keith Richards, which added to the overall experience. It's hard to know what to say about it, for it's not a movie that bears analysis. Much like cotton candy, it comes apart in your hands when you try to look through it. Orlando Bloom made a very good cardboard hero, the Botoxed thoroughly modern heroine gave up all individuality and independence right on schedule, and pirates were shown to be more or less decent men looking for the main chance. Still, Johnny Depp bobbing & weaving in Hunter Thompson mode, swathed in layers of greatcoats & fabulous hair...it was just one of those "stare at the pretty people" movies. I suppose they all don't have to be The Hours.
Sister Silver gave me a book last week, all about how to nurture yourself during pregnancy. I'm very much enjoying it, especially where it talks about the new layer of guilt that tells you that if you don't eat enough greens, do 100 Kegel exercises a day and play Mozart for the fetus, you are already a bad mother. There are some very specific journalling exercises in there, and I've done the first one, which is to make a list of things that will make me feel safe & nurtured during pregnancy.
Please don't make fun. I like all of this self-affirming hoohaw.
2 years ago today: our first real trip up blomidon
