Home?

I’ve been thinking about the idea of “home” lately, possibly because my short story, “You Get a Line” is included in the recently-published anthology, My Nova Scotia Home. Many of the pieces are non-fiction, but mine is pure fiction. It’s an interesting collection, and each Nova Scotia writer has a unique take on what home means to them.

As always, Pooh is right, and I’m the kind of person who, in a few days or even hours, can be comfy in a lot of different places. Here are some of the places I’ve felt at home in recent years:

Port Joli House, NS

Sandy Bay fish house, Port Joli, NS

Doris McCarthy’s kitchen at Fool’s Paradise, Scarborough Bluffs

Liam and Rachel’s house, Toronto, ON

Cucuron, France (L’hermitage)

Charlie, Horseshoe Lake, Leville, NS

The Wolfville Library

my writing room

Sea Breeze Cottage, Saint Simons Island, GA

Home, Wolfville, NS

the beach, anywhere:)

Home means different things to different people, I suppose. For me, it’s not the house, it’s not the surroundings or landscape, beautiful as they may be. It’s not the stuff I’ve collected over the years, as nice as all those things are, and finding second-hand treasure is so much fun! Of course, I’m grateful for all of this, and try not to take any of it for granted.

 

But, for me, home is the people, these people. Wherever they are, that’s home for me.

my definition of home.

 

FAMILY PHOTOS – BEST-BEFORE DATES?

Mum, Nance and me 1962

Mum, Nance and me 1962

So I spent most of Sunday going through old family photos, and I do mean old. My grandmother as a girl in the early 1900s, my parents as children in the 1930s/40s, and of course, my own sweet self as a toddler in the early 60s. nance and meI’m happy to say I was ruthless in choosing what to keep, what to chuck, but I still came close to filling a 300-picture album! That’s my dad and his dad, Gramps Mingo, in the header (our two dogs are also in the picture but cropped out by WordPress).

So many of the ones I kept have meaning only for me; my kids barely knew any of their great grandparents, and my parents died when my kids were still pretty young. But it was a cozy way to spend a spring-like February afternoon. I love seeing the adults from my childhood as kids, and looking at the pictures reminds me that I’ve always been loved – lucky me!

Nana and Gramps Pearson

Nana and Gramps Pearson

Nana and Gramps Mingo

Nana and Gramps Mingo, 1956

One thing I like about old pictures is seeing the familiar (but fading from memory) places I spent time/lived as a kid – things like the (now retro) kitchen curtains, furniture we had forever, backyards, swing-sets, animals, dolls, etc., including Polly, the beloved “chocolate” baby I requested the Christmas I was two (my dad wrote the letter to Santa for me, and it was included (and saved) in today’s treasure trove/purge).

Last Christmas, we scanned a couple of hundred pictures of our kids and put them on USBs for each of them, although, of course, we kept all the actual photos, too. I have a big closet shelf heaped with photographs, some in albums, lots in boxes, envelopes, all randomly organized. They’re precious to me, but I suppose they must have an expiry date – I’m hopeful a few might make their way into the hands of future generations (if my kids decide to have kids, that is).

Nance, Mum and me

Nance, Mum and me

How do you deal with photos (pre-digital, that is)? Got a few favourites?