Between the Barasways
The Cape Shore drive has become for me an act of discipline only because is also in and of itself an act of beauty. This marvellous revelation made itself known to me on Tuesday night as I drove home, accompanied by a startling cast of characters. The late evening sun was sinking decidedly into what the Celts call "the thin place," that ethereal stretch between sea and sky. The plump moon was just making itself known, accompanied by one bright star that sang of majesty and divinity. And the bay. The indigo blue grandeur of Placentia Bay provided a canvas for this enchanting scene. But it was handy 10:00. And I couldn't stop and write and take pictures the whole way home! Alas, an act of discipline.
That 65 km ribbon of road leading to Placentia has been a part of my daily life for almost sixteen years. In some ways, it is an extension of Branch, another paragraph in the narrative of home. I've greeted that road on quiet Summer mornings when the sea and sky were blue and gentle and calm, the only sound being the predictable hum of a long liner heading out the bay. I've also experienced this drive on Winter mornings when the landscape is sparse and wild and white, snow driven by fierce winds and ice transforming Ship Cove Hill into a vertical silver mountain.
But these are extremes, I know; bookends of weather between which lie some of the more mundane but most magical aspects of the Cape Shore, like the golden light that peeks out from the lane in Patrick's Cove, quietly proclaiming that John McGrath is at home. Or the cliffs that go on for miles between the Barasways, boasting windswept headlands. Or the swirly stretch of alders in Ship Cove that burst into green each June. Or how about Cusslett Lookout with it's view of the world and CIA-ish tower!
It's all a wonder, these little communities and the road that connects them, binds them. The next time you drive along the Cape Shore and you are commenting joyfully on the potholes, take a minute to look to your left, to your right, to the bay or to the woods or the house you had forgotten was even there. You might see something you haven't seen before or someting familiar might become new again.