October

This time of year is very special to me here on the island. Sometimes we would fore go a summer trip to the maritimes and wait for fall. In those years, we would usually stay at Indian Brook on Bras D'or on Cape Breton Island. Then, often reluctantly, we would spend some time here on this island.

The wonderful colours of the Cabot Trail, the warm people...the crisp air and maybe some fresh mackerel and blueberries made for a wonderful time before the the trip back to the desert. Then, I would bake or fry fish, make blueberry pie and enjoy our rented house along the shores of Bras D'or. Here we usually stayed at Cavendish near the park in a little old-fashioned motel cabins called the White Eagle, in the National park here.

Summerside then was a side trip then. Now it is my home. I am fully integrated here now with new friends and interests, but at time I am still introduced as "my Yankee friend".

Fishing has been less productive than in August, but i have gone to the wharf less these past few weeks. The weather has been unusually mild, but the chill approaches now as the tropical lows go past and the arctic highs arrive. The leaves are colouring and the birds seem anxious to depart for warmer climes as the sun goes lower and lower, and spirits wain for the approach of winter.

There has been little word from my remaining family except for the occasional "facebooking". It seems letters and phone calls are out of date, and that is where people socialize and chat now. I danced with Mary last night and we were to go to supper tonight..Chinese is the tradition...but there has been no word so I assume the date is off. Today marks our two year anniversary as a defunct couple. It is too bad too, as I was looking forward to it.

I almost just left yesterday. No place in mind, I just thought I would head East and stay in a hotel, maybe all the way to Cape Breton and eat blueberries and mackerel. But I decided against it and I am not sure why. Having the ability to go anywhere one wants is not always a reason to do it. Go to the airport and fly to the snowy Rockies, or just drive. A decision unmade again as it has been for me this time of year here.

Thus, I await an inspiration, a reason..raison d'etra". But fishing and a new month and week appear and I remain. placed in time along the beaches of memory, a place that love seems beyond the reaches.