Jan 11 – The other side

Well. That was a whirlwind.

Since last we met I've packed, moved, unpacked, started my job, flown home for Christmas, flown back to Halifax, gone back to work and unpacked a bit more. I've been the lucky recipient of endless amounts of hospitality as my belongings wended their way cross-country in the back of a moving van. I'm lucky to have many kind and generous friends who've made the transition easier than I'd imagined it could be. 

In between all the travel and packing and unpacking, I marked sixty final exams and forty portfolios, enjoyed multiple goodbye parties, knitted a few tiny Christmas socks, watched a friend's son take his first steps, and ate the best part of a tin of Quality Street. Somewhere in there I ate turkey; had trifle for breakfast; soaked up as much time with friends as I could (never enough, but still: we tried).

Now I'm here, settled in to my new home, getting into the swing of a new routine. I'm mastering the hills (oh my goodness, the hills), have located the yarn shops and a knitting group (though I've barely knit a stitch – too distracted), and I hosted my first dinner party last night. My first visitor from Upper Canada is due to arrive in less than a month. It's coming together.

Today I picked up the camera and followed the sun around the apartment. Some scenes...

This bowl just glows in the right light.

A housewarming gift from my sister. Everyone needs a wiener dog to guard their keys!

These are going to be a pair of long johns, eventually. Hopefully sooner rather than later: it's COLD here! (I know, I know, it's winter in Canada. But still.)

They renovated my building but left the original ceiling in the entryway.

La plus ça change...made these cookies and felt right at home.

A stool for perching on at breakfast time. It needs a cushion. I've got the fabric – just need to get my hands on a pillow form.

I filled the spare room with craft supplies. Naturally.

I've got a window over the sink! The perfect home for some of my favourite things.

I can watch the sun set while I wash the dishes. The skies here are spectacular – a by-product of the frigid temperatures.

Old friends.

Fresh flowers – I'm so happy that it's tulip time again.

I've always thought of clear skies like this as "Nova Scotia blue."

So that's that. Home. Hooray!

November 18: Changes

There are changes afoot.

Months ago, freshly returned from my Nova Scotia vacation, I applied for a job in Halifax. A good job. A good job with good people, in one of my favourite parts of the world.

And then life got busy, as it does in September, and things kept rolling and the weeks went by, and it was a bit of a surprise when I was asked in for an interview. (!) And then a second interview. (!!) And then I received a job offer. (!!!) Which I accepted. 

In less than a month, I'll be moving to Halifax.

(!!!!)

It has all happened so quickly that I find myself a bit bamboozled. I've ticked a lot off my to-do list but there's still so much to be done—so many papers to mark, boxes to pack, friends to see, and last visits to favourite places before I get on that plane heading east. 

So that's where I've been, and where I'm going. I'm pretty excited to be heading back to Nova Scotia—a move I've been planning for almost as long as I've lived in Toronto. (Sorry Toronto: you're just not my type.) I can't wait to be close to the ocean again.

All this means my crafting has slowed down considerably—I've been knitting a stitch here or there when I can fit it in, but my mind is elsewhere. In fact, I'm thinking a lot about the crafty adventures that await: I'm looking forward to taking a class at Patch Halifax, and I just discovered this rug-hooking shop in Amherst. My new apartment will have room for a spinning wheel, so there's surely a trip to Gaspereau Valley Fibres in my future, too. Hooray!

Now if I can just figure out how to trick my Toronto friends into some of the bigger moving boxes I've got lying around, I'll be all set...

A taste of spring

There's still a week until spring arrives officially, but there are hints of what's to come in the puddles on the sidewalk and the sudden cacophony of early morning birdsong. The sparrows don't know anything about Daylight Savings Time.

As I travelled down the QEW on Sunday, the late-afternoon sun made the orchards glow pink. Small patches of snow were still visible among the trees on the escarpment, but it's nothing like the great drifts of white that were there the last time I drove by. Soon it will all be covered in a haze of green.

We went to the nursery yesterday – opening day, all the plants lined up and ready to go. Hydrangea and lilies and the first tiny herbs, straining toward the sun.

Inside the greenhouse it was easy to forget the sun had retreated back behind a curtain of clouds. It was warm and humid and it smelled of damp earth. We wandered the aisles and rubbed leaves between our fingers for that brief hint of spice: basil, thyme, golden oregano.

The ranunculus were showing off, all pinks and purples and oranges. I bought some to take home – a change from the bouquet of supermarket tulips that were dropping petals everywhere as I left the house.

After the nursery: ice cream. The dairy bar up the road is a neighbourhood institution. We had our first cone of the year there yesterday, sitting in the parking lot while the wind buffeted the car. It was the best ice cream I've ever had. It always is. 

Now, home again, a flower on the table and spring in the air. I like it.