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 very 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.

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Some People Are Obviously Better Than The Rest of Us




Yellow Lines


I really get out-of-sorts with people that think they are above the law and park on the yellow lines in shopping centers - not just to pick up someone but just because they think they are above the law - and I thought 'yeah, they are getting a ticket' BUT no the town cop too is above the law and both mentally challenged people were just showing the rest of us that 'fuck you' we can park where we please

Laurel - II




Laurel - native wild flowering shrub

 


commonly called Laurel, Mountain Laurel, Calico-bush, Spoonwood and other local names, this beautiful native wild shrub of the eastern United States botanical name is Kalmia latifolia.  Its only drawback is that it can be poisonous if ingested but in my fairly long lifetime I have never heard of anyone having tried to eat it or having become sick from doing so.  
 

Leaves Are Good For The Soul


Misty Morning Rain


Magnolia Buds Are Waxing


Colour


Mrs Deer Ran For Her Life - as I pulled out, then when I stopped she too stopped


Modest


Perusing My Blog I Came Across This - A post from March 2012 'Ferguson's Lake at Dusk'

© August '09   photo by smck


Driving back from L'Archeveque the setting sun over Ferguson's Lake was so lovely that I had to stop and take a picture from Barren Hill Road.   As always the feeling of the fading day was ghosting over me like a pleasing shiver down my spine - no cars, no planes, no man-mad sounds,  just the breeze that ruffled the lake and sighed through the spruce and the tiny sound of wave-lets gently lapping on the stony beach.  I waited while the sky above darkened into early evening and while the old memories of Christopher Ferguson  and others that I had been lucky enough to know in the Barren Hill community ran through my mind - and how in the brief span of my later life it has reverted to a vast background of forest and lakes with only about two inhabited homes - one in which I know the family the other an unknown to me - the rest empty, fading away, or gone, the great arboreal forest  absorbing them back into its bosom, with this rural community like many others only a bit more alive by the influx of summer-from-aways like myself.  It was on Barren Hill Road that the best friend of my life was born and raised and he and his house is gone.  As much as I love rural living, this world of the future is steadily drawing most of the rural youth to its cities so that slowly, one by one, the small communities dwindle away or become summer colonies and the loss is profound - even if it is not of interest to the nation at large.  I drive on back toward Grand River appreciating the lonely street lights as I crest the hill at the highway garage.  Maybe Stewart and Sue are still up and I can stop and have tea and chase away my colly-wobbles, talking and laughing with my old friend's legacy, of son and daughter-in-law and grandchildren, to the future.  And it works, the great embracing feature of the rural life, rarely discerned in the city, the embracing of your neighbor, the looking the stranger in the eye, the easy hello, the sincere interest in what you are doing and how you are going, even when you might be estranged because of some imagined slight the urge to embrace breaks forth at someone's misfortune and old wounds are healed, at least for awhile.  It is like a large and scattered family that spends threads of communication through-out their scattering.  I love it and miss it.

and now five years on, the scene is the same, the comment is the same, and my missing my old Cape Breton friends is deeper than ever