Tatamagouche, Nova Scotia (Canada) is cottage country. Like most cottage country locales, it brims with activity during summer. When the season comes to an end, cottagers disappear, one by one, leaving local residents to contend with the quiet, the calm, the serenity and the vicious elements of winter.
The harbor of Tatamagouche boasts the warmest waters north of North Caroline; the sweetest oysters to be gathered from our own backyard; the largest lobsters this side of the Atlantic. This village is an artist's enclave: from painter to writer, to sculptor to potter. They all gather here to show their talents.
Tatamagouche is also a food lover's heaven, boasting free-range poultry; organic farming; vineyards where no sulfates are used in the processing of wine; homemade rustic breads. We are near the blueberry capital of Oxford; a famous maple bush and restaurant; organic lavender farm; all just minutes away.
The unrivaled beauty of Tatamagouche never changes. Only the constant ebbing and rising of the tides signal one day to the next. Beautiful days, I would sit on my deck, bathed in sunshine, infused with warmth, gazing out the inlet to the vast ocean beyond. On a clear day, I can see Amet's Island, where the seals hang out. In even clearer weather, Prince Edward Island would come into view; at times a cruise ship can be spotted, strikingly stark and white against the horizon of blue.
On sunny days, sailboats come out to frolic in the harbor. I watch for my favorite, a boat with brown-colored sails, quite reminiscent of a Chinese sampan, standing out from the rest of the lily-white sails. They dot the horizon for a day, forming a seascape much like yellow sitting ducks at a carnival/fair, weaving in and out of traffic. Sometimes visible, sometimes hidden from view.
Sometimes, the stillness of the air is interrupted by a soft breeze blowing through leafy, swaying poplar trees. Often, the quiet lapping of water against the shore is accompanied by periodic thumps of a hammer at a nearby construction site. Yet another house being built, disrupting the harmony of country life.
In Tatamagouche, we are one with nature; or is it the other way around? Families of deer, rabbits, ducks, pheasants, and even raccoons leave their daily calling cards. The raccoon competes with birds and squirrels for a meal from the bird feeder. Rabbits come to nibble the needles off the spruce tree, under the guest bedroom. An occasional woodpecker has been disappointed twice when it failed to find insects in the sealed logs of our home.
Some days we can sight the majestic flight of the bald eagle or a kingfisher. Other days, we are witness to sea gulls playing against the wind or having a meal of seafood, dropped from great heights to the depths below. Once in a while, Elsie the neighborhood cow commutes from her home to eat off our apple tree, leaving a gift in the form of cow patties.
I no longer wake to the jarring sound of an alarm clock. Instead, I am cajoled to open my eyelids with soft light from the windows, rising when it is bright enough to do so. We sip our morning coffee with the coming of the sun, be it yellow, orange, or bright red. Cloud formations I learned in youth are now a reality, as I see for the first time, Nimbus and Stratus clouds.
Only at Tatamagouche does time literally stand still. Some days, the placidity, serenity, or tranquility of the water is mesmerizing as nothing moves. When nothing moves, I am transformed to a higher level on earth, even though the feeling is not earthly. Just as quickly, moods can change, with winds whipping from the North East, bringing the ferocity and strength of the ocean, creating a maelstrom that is exciting, exhilarating, and intoxicating.
On rainy days, precipitation blows upward in velocity. Snow days, huge big flakes are swirled and twirled and directed horizontally. Full moon nights capture and captivate like a scenario out of a mystery novel or horror movie. On starry nights, I want to stand outside forever and count every blinking star looking down at me. In the short time we have been here, we have witnessed two lunar eclipses, gazing upwards from our back deck.
At Tatamagouche, night creeps in ever so slowly; enveloping us gently; wrapping us in black warmth; inviting us to rest and sleep deeply. As we rest, the silence of the night is almost deafening. Any intermittent noise or a crack in the house is an intrusion to our ears.
Best of all, I like looking out my kitchen window, watching my husband clearing the bush and trees. Storms have already taken several precious trees that had flanked the shoreline. My husband is in his element as I often kid him about his "outstanding in his field". Rainy days, he would put on his Sou'Wester hat and yellow MacIntosh, standing on the shore, gazing out to sea. Whenever he wears that outfit, he reminds me of Christopher Robin in Winnie the Pooh. He is an adult Christopher Robin.
There is no need for explanation as to why I like where I currently live. I find as the days go, I fall more and more in love with where I currently live.