Peggy's Cove

It’s become a huge tourist attraction, a place where tour buses come and hordes of people to see the lighthouse, the rocks and the ocean.  Seems odd that something so simple can become an industry.  Only about 60 people live there year round, some of them fisher folk, and one wonders what they think of all of us traipsing through their community.  The houses are mostly small (there weren’t many trees around to build with) and have steep roofs (to keep the snow from piling up in winter) and little of no overhang (to prevent strong winds from taking them off).  We look around and see some of the old, no longer functioning dories and lobster traps and think that perhaps they were left there for us, a photo opportunity.  Never mind the cynicism, the place is beautiful.

We arrived on a foggy Sunday just before noon and it wasn’t terribly busy yet.  We parked at the Visitor Information Centre and tried out the composting toilets next door.  The bathrooms are impressive – very clean and spacious.  The interpretive plaques outside the Information Centre tell about clashing continents (tectonic plates) more than 400 million years ago releasing magma from under the earth’s crust that caused the rocky outcrops.  Then glaciers arrived to carve and move large boulders lying around the area.  An ice ridge moved down from the Arctic about 20,000 years ago scouring rocks and carving away topsoil.

From the Centre we wandered down the road, looking at the memorial to fishermen carved in a large granite rock by William deGarthe.  The little art gallery was closed.  Along the road we passed a gift shop and take out place (tasty Cornish Pasties), then came to the small fishing harbour.

Finally we reached rocky Peggy’s Point and the light house.  I can see how a person could sit on the rocks for hours and watch the waves.  It’s hypnotic, soothing.  We clambered about, looked at the lighthouse and the waves and took pictures.  There are supposed to be fossils in the rocks, but we didn’t see any.

I’ve always loved water, the sea, rivers and lakes – large expanses of water.  I was born in Kiel, which is on the Kiel Canal and the Firth, leading into the Baltic Sea.  I guess things that you experience in your childhood stay with you.

Markets

I like Farmers’ Markets.  In Saskatoon I used to go to the outdoor market in front of City Hall once the weather got nice enough.  There was no Farmers’ Market in the winter and fall.  The location was a good one – central to downtown apartment complexes and right by the main library.  You could browse the market and then pick up a few books for the weekend.  When the market moved to its current, permanent location near River Landing, it was good for me because I could walk from my place on the other side of the river, cross the Victoria Street Bridge and stroll along 19^th Street.  I like the renovated building and the outdoor space.  Still it’s small compared to markets in other cities.  The main day for shopping is Saturday, although in peak season’s it’s open a few hours on Wednesdays and sometimes Sundays.  It would be nice if it could develop into something like Granville Island in Vancouver or Kensington Market in Toronto, though Saskatoon is probably too small for that to happen in the immediate future.  Nevertheless, a good beginning has been made with an art gallery, a restaurant, and a coffee shop that stay open most of the week.  Some commercial office space also helps.

The first time I visited the Halifax Farmers’ Market was in October of 2010, and I was impressed with the variety and quality of vendors.  Vegetables and fruit in season (the best apples I’ve had are local Nova Scotia ones and we don’t seem to get them out west) are great.  On both main and upstairs levels you can find crafts that make unique souvenirs. I ’m back to the city for couple of weeks now, and went to the market yesterday morning.  I love the bakery where you can get authentic French and European breads as well as delicious croissants from plain to chocolate and pear.  There’s organic meat, lots of fish, local honey, tasty jam, and plenty of spots to get breakfast or lunch.  Just like the Saskatoon Market it’s a great place to run into friends.  I got the impression that for many the Saturday  morning market run is an important ritual for many Haligonians, as is the case also in Saskatoon.  Late morning on a though it was packed with shoppers so that you could barely move, so I didn’t spend as much time browsing.  Perhaps I’ll try again next Saturday -- earlier.

The Halifax Brewery Market, which is not far away, is North America’s oldest, according to Lonely Planet.  It is an interesting old building, but no longer has much in the way of vendors because most of them have moved to the other site.  However, this Saturday there were lots of bedding plants, which made for a colourful display.  There’s also a place where you can get delicious cinnamon buns and other pastry.  I guess it’s also possible to get a tour of the old brewery and sample some local beer.

Both of these Halifax markets are close to the waterfront so it’s easy to cover the short distance between the two by strolling along the board walk where you will likely run into tourists off the cruise ships.  The City of Halifax has done a nice job of mixing attractive condo space with commercial stores in this area.  There are working boats to look at, and also in the water (which does have a greasy dark harbour look in spots) you can see jelly fish, star fish and seaweed.

When I get back to Saskatoon I’m looking forward to checking out the bedding plants at the market.  My home garden and planters are late getting done this year because we had such a cool and late spring.  It’s been grey here in Halifax, and today it poured for a while.  I believe Saskatoon weather is much better.

Tulips

               A sure sign of spring in my back yard is the blooming of clumps of Tulipa tarda – a variety of perennial, low growing, spreading, and very easy to grow.  Unfortunately they only come in yellow, but I like them anyway, never having had much luck with the more common showy tulips that we associate with Holland and Ottawa.  Tulipa tarda are hardy enough to over winter every year.
                Tulips actually originated in Central Asia, with 50 or so varieties growing wild.  The Turks cultivated them as early as 1000 AD (or CE if you prefer).  In one story, in the mid 1500s the Turkish Ambassador to Austria brought some bulbs to Vienna and they spread from there.  Another version says that a biologist from Vienna was given some bulbs by his friend, the Ambassador to Constantinople.  The latter had seen them growing in gardens.  At any rate, by the 1630s tulips had become all the rage, a status symbol and a coveted luxury item in Holland and other parts of Europe, with some rare single bulbs selling for thousands of dollars each.   Prices kept rising, people mortgaged whatever they could to raise cash, and speculation in bulbs continued, with a futures market.  Eventually the demand ended and markets crashed.  There is a book called Tulipomania by Mike Dash about this whole thing – I haven`t read it yet, but it sounds interesting.
                The Ottawa tulip festival (which I`ve never attended, though I`ve seen some of the tulips) began after Princess Juliana of the Netherlands gave 100,000 bulbs in the fall of 1945, in appreciation of the safe haven she and her two daughters had in Canada at Government House during the second world war, as well as for Canada`s role in liberating the Netherlands.  Her third daughter was born in Canada during this time (the only royal baby ever born in North America).  The room at the Ottawa Civic Hospital where the baby was born was temporarily ceded to the Netherlands so that she could be a Dutch citizen.  The first Tulip Festival was held in Ottawa in 1953, at the suggestion of world famous photographer Malak Karsh (who took lots of photos), and organized by the Ottawa Board of Trade.  It now lasts for 18 days with some 3 million tulips on display in the region (that`s a lot of planting).
                Despite their not being very showy, I`m happy to be able to enjoy my little yellow tulips without having to have sold my house to get them!

Stone

©copyright Regine Haensel

Previously published as “People who lived in stone houses” Western People August 26, 1982

                The remains of several houses, churches and a schoolhouse that were built of fieldstone late in the 19^th century can still be seen in the district south of Wolseley, Saskatchewan.

                Now a few scattered families live in the area, but in the late 1800s and early 1900s 40 families lived in the open country neighborhood called Moffat in an area that includes Westfield and Greenville.

                Some of these settlers arrived in the Westfield area in 1882.  Most of the first group were from Ontario of Irish and English descent.  At that time the countryside south of Wolseley (it was then Wolf Cree) was heavily treed.  The poplars that grew there could be used to build cabins and stables.  Game was abundant, including deer, antelope and birds.  There were wild flowers and wild fruits.

                In 1883 and 1884 the population increased rapidly.  Many of these settlers came from Aberdeenshire and Ayreshire in Scotland.  They were farmers, stone masons, blacksmiths, drapers shopkeepers, often poor men looking for a start.  One man, Alec Duncan, arrived in the Moffat area in 1884 with seven cents to his name.

                The first houses were shacks, build of logs or sawn lumber covered with tar paper.  Often they were not storm proof or water proof. The first Presbyterian Church, ready in December, 1884, was also built of wood.  On alternate days the Methodists used the church since they hadn’t yet built their own.  Although dancing, card playing and any kind of gambling were forbidden, suppers, concerts, play practices and committee meetings were also held in the chirch.

                In Scotland, stone houses were a common sight and several of the Moffat settlers were stone masons by trade.  One of them, Mr. Gibson, noticing that most of the stones in his field were either granite or limestone, decided to build a kiln.  At times he got 100 bushels of lime from the kiln, often keeping the fires going for as long as 70 hours with the whole family taking turns at the firing.  His house, which he began in 1884, was ready by December, 1885, and measured 35 feet long by 20 feet wide.

                Other stone houses were built as well, most of them by individual owners and their families.  Each farm, as was the custom in the old country, had a name like Craigfarg, Medwyn and Loganston.

                In spite of the imposing appearance of some of these houses, the people were not wealthy.  They worked hard, did their own building, and used materials locally available.  The houses often had little furniture and were chilly in winter (people merely put on more clothes), although they were cool in the summer.

                Privacy was important to the Scots.  They set their houses well back from the roads and trails, facing their own fields.  Surrounded by poplar bluffs, chokecherries, saskatoons, red lilies and wild roses each home was well hidden.  The ruins and even those few that are more or less intact are hard to find today.

                Wild game provided food and sometimes clothing.  Birds sang in the trees, frogs croaked in the spring.  In winter squeaking runners and sleighbells accompanied visitors.  But life had its harsh side too.  There was always a danger of drought.  Sloughs dried up in summer and wells sometimes went dry.  Winter blizzards could be deadly too.

                Two churches were also built of stone.  St. Andrew’s Presbyterian was compelted in 1891, a community effort under the guidance of contgractors.  It was not beautiful, but had simplicity and solidity.  There was no steeple or cross, only a round window in the west wall to give it the feel of a church.  In 1897 Greenville Methodist Church was completed.  It had a higher roof than St. Andrew’s and had three Gothic windows.

                The community flourished.  In 1885 the Mutual Improvement Association was formed to provide entertainment and leadership training for young men.  A weekly newspaper was established.  Greenville’s first school was built of stone in 1886 or 1887.  The Ladies Aid presented annual church picnics, bazaars and socials.  Farmers from Moffat attended the Farmers’ Institutes meetings in Wolseley, discussing such topics as seed, stock and windbreaks.  Farmers and their wives also exhibited at fairs in Wolseley and sometimes Broadview and Indian Head.

                Other immigrants, mostly from continental Europe, came to the area.  Although the Scots were neighbourly, they kept mainly to themselves.  A second influx of Scots, many of them from Buchan County, arrived in the early 1900s.

                More difficult years came in the 30s, though Moffat was not as hard hit as many areas and all of the farmers stayed with their land.  The people kept up their social life with sports, young people’s meetings and picnics.  Church membership was high and Sunday school attendance was at its peak.  But many of the original pioneers were dying and change was inevitable.  After the Second World War  mechanization led to larger farms, the need for fewer people, and an increasing dependence on the nearby towns and cities.

                Unfortunately the Scots had built to Scottish conditions, often without adequate foundations.  In Scotland this was not a problem, but in the severe Saskatchewan winters the earth shifted and cracked leading to the eventual disintegration of many buildings.  Greenville School had to be condemned and was destroyed in 1912; Greenville Methodist church vacated in 1929.  As larger farms became the norm, houses were abandoned.

                But Moffat is not dead.  The hall is still used for dances and other activities.  Although the church congregation has dwindled, services are still held at the second oldest Protestant church in Saskatchewan still functioning.

SIDEBAR

                Kay Parley’s grandfather came to Moffat in 1883.  She remembers his house (the farthest east in the community) as a “palace” with two staircases and a bay window.  Like many Moffat homes, this house was added to in wood, becoming a big, rambling place where one had to walk about “an eight of a mile to bring up the butter and cream from the basement.”

                Because her roots were in the area and because so many of the stone houses were falling apart, Kay Parley decided in 1964 to write a history of the community.  She spent two years on the project, including a trip to Scotland, the original home of many of the settlers.

                Parley has also made pencil sketches of the stone house community, in a series called “The Stones of Moffat and Greenville.”

NOTE:   For more current pictures and additional info about stone houses in Wolseley go to http://www.wolseley.ca/

Blackout

Yesterday I bought Connie Willis’ book All Clear in hardcover.  I don’t often do this, being on a fairly tight budget, but every once in a while when I think I’m going to like a book I do it.  Unfortunately, my hopes don’t always work out and more often than not I end up donating a hard cover to the library (e.g. Captive Queen).  However, with Willis, I feel very confident.  After all, I already own five of her books (one of them hardcover) and I like them all.  The first book of hers I ever read was Doomesday Book (it won the Hugo and Nebula Awards), which I borrowed from the library, and now own in hardcover due to a lucky purchase at the Saskatoon Symphony Music and Book Sale this spring.

All Clear is the follow up book to Blackout, which I recently bought (in paper) and finished in record time.  In her intro Willis wrote, “I want to say thank you to all the people who helped me and stood by me with Blackout as it morphed from one book into two and I went slowly mad under the strain.”  I have to say, I’m glad she decided to live on the edge.  Both of these books, as well as Doomsday Book  (about Medieval England) are about time travel stints for history students launched from a special lab at Oxford University around 2060.  There are rules and regulations about how the time travel is to occur as well as ‘natural laws’ that seem to apply.  So if you like history and time travel along with aspects of a thriller, and good writing, these books are worth reading.

Blackout concerns several students sent back to London in 1940, during the height of the WWII bombings.  The research is well done, not only in regards to real historical events, but also for the atmosphere and how people might have behaved and lived.  I found the same things to be true about Doomesday Book, so I think it would be safe to say the Willis is consistent in her ability to research and bring the past to life in a way that will keep you turning pages and reading far into the night (if you’re a before bedtime reader).  Another thing she wrote in her intro was, “But most especially, I want to thank the marvellous group of ladies at the Imperial War Museum the day I was there doing research – women who, it turned out, had all been rescue workers and ambulance drivers and air-raid wardens during the Blitz.”

Needless to say, the time travel in Blackout  (and the other books) does not go according to plan.  As we move back and forth between 2060 and 1940, we read about events such as the bombings of London streets, homes and department stores; child evacuations to the country with a measles epidemic; friendships that develop in the bomb shelters and underground;  the evacuation of Dunkirk by little boats not always seaworthy; and the heroism of ordinary people.  Although each of the students is sent to a different part of England during the war, several of them eventually find each other and try to determine what is causing their problems, as time is literally running out for them.  Will the students ever make it back to Oxford?  That’s where Blackout ends.  You can see why I had to buy the next book, though I was able to hold out for about a week before I broke down and headed to the bookstore.

Other Connie Willis books worth reading (not time travel) are Lincoln’s Dreams, Bellwether (very funny), and Passages.