“You don’t take a photograph, you make it.”
I’m adding memories to my Newfoundland photos. Putting in some of the little details that can’t be seen by looking at the pictures. I’m capturing the uncaptured frozen in time.
The orange cabin we stayed in in Bauline East. Did you know some places in Newfoundland are named twice? Portugal Cove, Portugal Cove South, Bauline, Bauline East. This didn’t just make my head spin but a Newfoundlander’s too when he tried to visit us one day. He got lost in Bauline, up the coast, instead of heading down the coast to Bauline East.
This was the view from the cabin. It was absolutely fantastic. The tiny cove still has a working wharf and fisher people are coming to and fro in their boats with their catch. My sister enjoyed watching them one morning and wondering what they were bringing in.
The cove was also a nice place for breakfast. The camera is tilted from sitting on all the beach rocks. The sun was hot but the wind was not. A nice pot of tea warmed me up with the sea breeze blew by. Oh, and Hobnobs dipped in tea are delicious.
The Cribbies, Tors Cove. We were told this is one of the most photographed cottages in Newfoundland. It’s right near the ocean and we saw seals and whales swimming and diving a short stroll away from the traditional saltbox home. The only reason I saw the sea life was because I glimpsed the sun glinting off a whale’s back.
Cape Spear was windy, windy, windy and windy. Cold too. Couldn’t imagine being on watch there looking for U-boats during World War II. Lonely post. Now I have been to the western most part of Africa (when I was in Senegal) and the eastern most part of North America at Cape Spear.
The view from Signal Hill was amazing. Look at that view of St. John’s narrows. My husband was using his mobile phone to tweet while at the national historical place and someone tweeted back, “Think about the message sent originally, and your message today.” Something to ponder.
This is the Terry Fox Mile Zero Memorial Site, the place where he dipped his foot into the Atlantic and started his Marathon of Hope. I’ve been to his monument in Thunder Bay and to the one in Victoria and now, the one in St. John’s.
Here I am in my bride maid’s dress. My shoulders are slumped because despite the shining sun, it was frosty and I was cold. At one point during wedding photos I wished my dress was made of fur. But pictures had to be done. I was part of my friend Neil’s wedding party. He and I go way back to the first day I moved into residence at Acadia.