Vacation shots, feel free to bypass
As many people know, all summer I kvetched about work overload. So I took my summer vacation in late September. Mostly I read (thanks again, Julie and Rich). There are no photos of books, largely because although I'm past 550 pages in Boswell I (ahem) misplaced the godforsaken volume Thursday after an uncharacteristic encounter with a margarita. Argh.
Anyway. I'll keep the blow-by-blow short. After my fly-by-night departure (got about three hours of sleep)(damn, I'm already going into detail) I called my kid sister from the airport (5:45 a.m. She was on her way to work) and landed to fairly inauspicious, misty/rainy weather.
(Look-- kilometers!) Which cleared up beautifully as soon as I arrived at my destination.
Harbor basin at low tide:
The view from Julie's front door:
After I spent a day or two unwinding (i.e., lazing), I put on my tourist's hat and visited Lunenberg, a pretty coastal town. First I hunted down nearby Blue Rocks. It's a small, traditional fishing village, says the 1999 Frommer's guidebook I found on the street four years ago (I loaned my good guidebook away).
The fishing shacks intrigued me. All pint-size. Rough, short gangplanks to get in and out. "Village" overstates the spot considerably.
No one was there. A small handful of wood-carving souvenir shops-- that is, people's houses-- and that was it. Tight turnaround. Which reminds me: The Toyota Yaris hatchback is a faaaantastic car for the money. Decent headroom. Comfortable. Handles fine, though I wouldn't want to corner hard. Tight turning radius. Sips gas.
Then I did my best to get lost.
I succeeded. Lunenberg itself: eh. Lotsa galleries offering locally made paintings of storm-tossed seas and scenic coves. (Is that description too harsh?) The tourist shops seemed especially strange on a post-season, empty day. The town has attractive churches.
(Any guesses? In New England, that would be cod.)
And stately cats.
"You may kiss the paw."
Okay. We're getting near the end. Promise. Monday, back with my generous hosts (whom I'd cleaned out of All-Bran), I wanted to get closer to the view. So I hiked the local cape.
Pretty. I haven't uploaded my water pictures, but it was there. Speaking of not uploading, I'm not maintaining blog semi-anonymity; I have a constitutional dislike of getting photos of myself in front of landmarks. (Other people in front of landmarks-- no problem.) Also, as an ex-New Yorker I worry that any stranger I ask to take said photo will turn and run off with my camera.
To prove that I didn't crib this portfolio from stock-photography sites--
Windy up there. Shnookered around for a while, then came back down and walked on the beach. Which leads me to the minor moral of this picture book: In Nova Scotia, come September,
Apples are everywhere.
Ta-da! (thx thx J. & R.!)
p.s. Drat, forgot to mention Halifax. I have a funny story involving a hip comics store, a mouth (mine), and a foot (sadly, also mine).
Anyway. I'll keep the blow-by-blow short. After my fly-by-night departure (got about three hours of sleep)(damn, I'm already going into detail) I called my kid sister from the airport (5:45 a.m. She was on her way to work) and landed to fairly inauspicious, misty/rainy weather.
(Look-- kilometers!) Which cleared up beautifully as soon as I arrived at my destination.
Harbor basin at low tide:
The view from Julie's front door:
After I spent a day or two unwinding (i.e., lazing), I put on my tourist's hat and visited Lunenberg, a pretty coastal town. First I hunted down nearby Blue Rocks. It's a small, traditional fishing village, says the 1999 Frommer's guidebook I found on the street four years ago (I loaned my good guidebook away).
The fishing shacks intrigued me. All pint-size. Rough, short gangplanks to get in and out. "Village" overstates the spot considerably.
No one was there. A small handful of wood-carving souvenir shops-- that is, people's houses-- and that was it. Tight turnaround. Which reminds me: The Toyota Yaris hatchback is a faaaantastic car for the money. Decent headroom. Comfortable. Handles fine, though I wouldn't want to corner hard. Tight turning radius. Sips gas.
Then I did my best to get lost.
I succeeded. Lunenberg itself: eh. Lotsa galleries offering locally made paintings of storm-tossed seas and scenic coves. (Is that description too harsh?) The tourist shops seemed especially strange on a post-season, empty day. The town has attractive churches.
(Any guesses? In New England, that would be cod.)
And stately cats.
"You may kiss the paw."
Okay. We're getting near the end. Promise. Monday, back with my generous hosts (whom I'd cleaned out of All-Bran), I wanted to get closer to the view. So I hiked the local cape.
Pretty. I haven't uploaded my water pictures, but it was there. Speaking of not uploading, I'm not maintaining blog semi-anonymity; I have a constitutional dislike of getting photos of myself in front of landmarks. (Other people in front of landmarks-- no problem.) Also, as an ex-New Yorker I worry that any stranger I ask to take said photo will turn and run off with my camera.
To prove that I didn't crib this portfolio from stock-photography sites--
Windy up there. Shnookered around for a while, then came back down and walked on the beach. Which leads me to the minor moral of this picture book: In Nova Scotia, come September,
Apples are everywhere.
Ta-da! (thx thx J. & R.!)
p.s. Drat, forgot to mention Halifax. I have a funny story involving a hip comics store, a mouth (mine), and a foot (sadly, also mine).
posted by Danielle at 3:14 PM
3 Comments:
GREAT shots! Really beautiful.
Your pictures are stunning... and don't worry about the margarita. My guess is that we've all had a run-in with that particular wench. :)
Lovely pictures! I love the one with the dashboard. :-)
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