Fall equinox has arrived, as have I, back in the shadow of Hesperus Peak once again. The journey west was a long one–now two weeks and 6,000 miles from St John’s. Watching Newfoundland disappear in mist, sea, cloud as the MV Blue Puttees ferried us across to Nova Scotia was like watching the mystical isle of Avalon melt away in the distance. Will I be able to conjure it up again sometime in the future?
Meanwhile, at least one mystery has been resolved. Those stone cairns marking the TransCanada Highway? Turns out they are faux inukshuks, a relic of Inuit communication (pointing the way, or noting ‘Kilroy was here’), now become so popular as to be meaningless. Something like the Kokopelli rock art of the Southwest, trivialized to the point of absurdity. Not exactly creative art.
I also learned that the Bay of Fundy, which is bordered on the east by Nova Scotia’s Annapolis Valley and on the west by New Brunswick and Maine, is an enormous, ferocious tidal pool whose nature decidedly did not agree with me. Talk about a personal relationship with the landscape–sometimes it just does not work for you! The “tidal bore” of returning sea water actually causes several Nova Scotia rivers to run backwards in a massive surge twice a day. I found myself completely disoriented by that phenomenon, as does, I suppose, much of the local fish population. The good news is that in fleeing back north to the lovely Northumbrian coast, I discovered the seaside apple orchards of Amherst.
So here is my windfall, under the autumn equinox sun. The journey is not ended, but another ring on the spiral has come full circle. It is time now for retrospection, reflection, integration. Will Winter’s dream raise Avalon out of the mist come next Spring? Stay tuned!