The look of late summer

It was cooler this past week, without much humidity and its layer of discomfort. We have walked the boardwalk, picked berries and been with the kids on several adventures we always do before school starts every year.

There have been a few windy days, wind enough to turn Bedeque Bay into what resembles chocolate milk. The rough seas from high wind stir up the red sand in the bay and voila, chocolate milk!

On a calm day, we spotted a Great Blue Heron among the bulrushes in the salt marsh. I am fascinated by these birds and I suspect it is the same one which frequents this area as it often visits the same spot.

The bird was far enough away for it to feel safe. At one point it looked to be trying to mimic the bulrushes. 

Then it looked my way.

It stretched its neck as if to get a better look. 

I smile every time I see these last two photos.

We also saw some of the migrant birds last week including, a Black-bellied Plover, 

Semipalmated Plovers 

and a Solitary Sandpiper.

My husband and I always enjoy berry picking, a common activity of childhood in Newfoundland. This past week, we made several attempts to pick high bush blueberries with our daughter and the three children. Finally, after a few days of rain cancellations and ripening delays, we headed out. 

The last of the berries were available and I enjoyed the time with the other four, one of whom, ate more than she added to the containers. My husband entertained the golden grand-dog, Daisy, while we picked.

Time at Cavendish Grove this time of year involves a picnic and squishing apples which are past eating. 

Then we played fetch with Daisy until we were spent though she still was eager to fetch.

Also every year, the grandchildren have their photos taken hanging from a specific tree branch in the grove. With the traditional activities checked for this year, they are ready for school.

While summer has been lovely, we look forward to this month which heralds autumn and all its beauty. 

A day at the beach and Fiona update

It is one of the most picturesque areas of Prince Edward Island. We visit St. Peter’s Harbour at least once every year, often in September. Our recent visit on a sunny but cool day did not disappoint. 

The lighthouse has been inactive 2008 and left to ruin until a local committee took on the tasks of repairs and maintenance. 

The small structure sits behind the sand dunes along the beach near the entrance to St. Peter’s Harbour. 

The well worn path through the dunes opens to the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

The beach stretches west and is strewn with seaweed, past some cottages behind the dunes.

To the east the remnants of an old breakwater are well weathered at the entrance of the harbour. 

Across the channel, visitors at the Greenwich part of the National Park, enjoy a stroll on the beach too. 

On the west side of the channel, the old pylons have taken years of relentless pounding much worse than today.

Meanwhile, along the shoreline, some of the last of the migrant shorebirds feed along the water’s edge. They walk quickly and appear to enjoy the company of a variety of birds. In the photo below, a Semipalmated Plover forages with some Sanderlings. 

Nearby, footprints in the sand show just how busy the area has been.

The sound of the ocean, the smell of salt air, and the sight of the breaking waves fill the senses.  As we head back to the car, crickets were chirping among the vegetation behind the dunes. A last look over the dunes will have to sustain us for another year.

P.S.

We have battened down the hatches prior to Hurricane Fiona tomorrow and Saturday. High winds and rain are expected, the amount of rain and wind speed uncertain as of yet. We are as ready as we can be!

Update: Saturday, September 24/22

Well, we are over part of what was the worst weather experience of our lives. The house shook and rattled but stayed in tact. The basement felt like the safest place but sleep was impossible. 

When we lost power at 1:00 a.m., the wind was so high, we wouldn’t chance going to start the generator. Through the night, unbelievably, the power came back on for an hour and a half. It was somewhat reassuring. Later, after the power went off again, by mid morning, the storm eased somewhat and we started our generator.

The worse part of Fiona occurred in darkness, when the neighbourhood was pitch black. With the sounds of nature’s fury and the creaking and shaking of the house, it was difficult to distract oneself from the onslaught. Dawn’s arrival by 7 a.m. was welcome. Now we are waiting for Fiona to blow herself out!

Anxiety has been our foremost emotion this week and especially overnight. When we could check in with family and assess the damage, the anxiety lifted. Everyone is well and while our house came through with minor damage, our daughter has water leaking from the ceiling. We are fortunate though. Many others in Atlantic Canada fared much worse. 

We will not soon forget Fiona.

Hanging by a root

It is a small point of land projecting into Malpeque Bay on the north shore of Prince Edward Island. 

This day park has a lovely beach and picnic area which we visit every summer. The effects of erosion are obvious along the coastline in the park where trees hang by their roots over the bank.

My husband and I walked along the shoreline and observed the trees and other vegetation in their eroded state. They hold on to life as long as possible.

The red sandstone, once exposed, is eroded by the wave action. Sharp edges are soon made smooth as exposed pieces of sandstone litter the beach.

In some areas, the exposed soil contains shells. One wonders how long they have been caught in the soil.

Closer to the water’s edge, several species of birds are busy feeding. Least Sandpipers are small birds which can be easily missed along the shoreline if one doesn’t stop and watch for movement.

The Semipalmated Plovers are easier to identify but blend in so well too.

A larger bird, a Willet, likes this area and we see them here every year.

The picnic table above the beach gets a bit closer to the edge every year. For now, there is space to move it.

When we compare an area of shoreline from 2017 to 2022, one can see how much the bank and sandstone have eroded.

                                                                                     2017

                                                                                     2022

This park will disappear eventually, a victim of the changing climate. We will enjoy it as long as possible.

Going home

One of my favourite settings in the world is a beach. This feeling about beaches developed during my childhood by the sea. At that time, it was the North Atlantic and a beach with smoothed beach rocks rather than sand. For me, the sound of the sea is like music, the smell of the sea takes me back in time and the sight of its gentle lap or waves of various heights comfort me. It is one of the reasons I love Prince Edward Island so much. Though it is part of my psyche, the sea is also physically near wherever I am on this island. 

A recent wander brought my husband and I to Thunder Cove, on the central north coast. The beach there feels like it goes on forever.

From the red cliffs near the parking area, the shoreline becomes sand dunes covered in Marram grass behind which are several areas with cottages, though few are visible from the beach. This beach is pristine, beautiful red sand with little seaweed at the high tide mark.

It wasn’t crowded. The further we walked, the more likely the beach goers were cottagers accessing the beach via an occasional trail through the dunes or stairs.

We kept the golden grand-dog on lead because Semipalmated plovers darted along the sand as the waves lapped the beach. 

At the east end of the beach, more sandstone cliffs separate Thunder Cove from the next beach, a shorter though equally beautiful one. 

The sandstone here is well weathered and doesn’t look stable. It is not an area for climbing though one might be tempted to do so. Above in the earth over the sandstone, a hole indicates a bird might be home, probably a bank swallow.

Two men prepared to launch a catamaran into the on-shore breeze as the tide receded. We watched as they hoisted the sails but didn’t see them leave.

This beach is nothing like the beach of my youth, however, the essentials are the same. The sound, smell and sight take me back to another time and place but one just as beautiful. The truth is when the sea is in your blood, you are never far from home.