Somewhere on the southern shore of Nova Scotia on the western shore of Mahone Bay overlooking
infamous Oak Island...............................................
The darkest night, small towns one by one, so small you miss the sign and wonder where you've been; you certainly don't know where you're going. There are few street lights, fewer cars, just a bumpy road with lots of potholes and some gravel. Blindly follow the car in front, the baby cries and cries. It's dark dark dark and late in the evening. There is no moon...yet; it rises at midnight.
There is a turn off the main road which could hardly be classified as the main road as we know them. Now, one lane, very bumpy, a sharp turn to the right, a road going down down down, to water, maybe? Then a turn onto gravel. The crunch is a comforting soothing sound, this is a dead-end so we must end soon. It's Granny's Lane in the pitch black, it's a path through a forest, no one is here but us and we are unseen just heard slightly moving, like numbers in a bingo holder. Then among what looks like a forest of trees, a house appears and a drive. We are here.
Quiet, still, no noises, no lights but open windows. Glass open to screens, a pleasant night, a place where doors are not locked but we seem locked into the dark surrounded. There is water, ocean here somewhere and somewhere a lake, maybe across that gravel road?
It seems from peering outward through loads of glass that there must be a view, the ocean must be here but it is as silent as the glass. We are confused; we've seen a picture but not of this front of this house. Are we in the right place? Will we walk into someone else's unlocked door? But no other houses are seen here, none in the darkest night I have seen in years. This must be the place. The front is the back and the back is the front. The ocean, is it the front or the back. It is all of that and more.
We move, we settle, we designate, we put to bed, everyone has a bed, a joy! We put away food, unpack coolers, start laundry, we move silently through this large house wondering how it is we have managed such a find. A dark, lonesome place that is now seeing life. It is still quiet for now, but it's respite time is over. No one has been here for lots of moons but we are here and the house is peaceful. Tomorrow the sun will rise in the same place we see the moon rise at midnight and there will be laughter and music and noise and the house will hum again as it must have before.
The moon does rise before we bed. We are tired but there are some things to do so we can settle tonight and waste no time tomorrow on the other things we must do...play in the water, on the dock, explore the gardens and paths, enjoy the sunshine that will surely come and light up our new world. It's as if we cannot go to bed until we see the moon. It sheds new light and meaning on our home away from home.
Ah, there it is, the water. Shimmering black and dark blue, still and wavy all at the same time. We have found the back or maybe it is the front but there is an ocean and it's in view out of every window on this side. The moonlight fills our bedrooms and lights up the way no other light can. We cannot sleep for marveling at its first yellow then white beauty. We cannot wait to see the daylight and it does not wait on us, sleepyheads from watching the moon bright enough to wake us in the middle of the night. Before we are fully rested, the sun who is an early riser at 5 am, fills entire rooms with magnificent glory, so bright some look for sunglasses in the breakfast room. It is a wonderful sunrise, full of promise for this new day. We can now see what was only a dream in the night; the beauty and awe of this place which in the dark is cloaked with secrecy but is now revealed and we will find that we are not alone on this dead-end road in a town of witness-protection ambiance. We will have new friends in just hours, Dutch, Mohammed Sode, and the Frenchman. We will be wet, dirty, bee-stung, mosquito-bitten, sun-drenched, barefooted, and hat-headed in this paradise. People will ask us for directions as we walk barefoot down the road for no one comes here unless they mean to.
This beautiful garden home overlooking a famous, possibly treasure-filled island in a small bay off the Atlantic Ocean is filled with wonder. There is a spirit here of love and peace, and we will be happy and blessed, very happy indeed.
Oak Island
Another sunrise on the bay.
Our New "Dingy"
There are neighbors at the top of the road.
A garden arbor leading to a path which goes to the dock.
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