The place names are familiar Halifax, Loch Lomond, Chelsea, Cornwall intermingled with the exotic sounding Martinique Beach and Musquodoboit harbour. A couple of hours down the road is Oak Island where a real life treasure hunt is televised in the belief of Templar treasure, maybe even the grail, being buried there. Almost like Blighty but not quite. The Union Jack flows freely with the Canadian Maple and Nova Scotia flags in this warm summer ending and beginning of Autumn.
We have been travelling over the past weeks and find ourselves in Nova Scotia, ‘New Scotland’ so named by Sir William Alexander having been given the land by King James VI of Scotland in 1621. Originally this was the land of the Mi’ kmaq people and first colonised by the French who created the capital Arcadia. Needless to say the history of this area is fraught with land grabs and fighting which to an outsider visitor is invisible on the surface of a beautiful, peaceful area with a chilled out vibe.
And so we are celebrating the Autumn Equinox here, a moment in time when there is balance, a halfway point between the longest and shortest days before we move towards change -less daylight and the beginnings of winter. It’s the official date of the start of Autumn but it has felt like there is change for some weeks now.
I decide to record the days leading up to the equinox with snaps of my surroundings as I would do in Britain and to take note of the changes with an interest of what will Autumn be like here.
I’m surprised to find so much of what I know, well what I almost know - there is familiarity in colour, light, flora and fauna but it’s not quite the same.
The Atlantic roughs up the golden beach most days here making a surf worthy of being ridden by the most experienced to beginners , but at sunrise and sunset it seems to settle, to quieten and take on Turneresque colours that are so hard to find on a paint palette. Stunted, almost Scott’s pine trees silhouette making ‘fake’ looking views of cheap art. But it’s real as are the deer on the lawn, the Snowshoe Hares who are getting a first dot of winter white on their foreheads.
Plovers and Sanderlings - not quite our type- busy up and down the sand like mice. Amongst them are locusts, just landed, and bright yellow butterflies.
The sand dunes have clover, solidago and Michaelmas Daisies - all out at the ‘right’ time but not quite the ‘right’ place.
It makes me consider how do things become familiar, how long does it take know these plants and animals, to know the approach of Autumn, its smell, its light, its feel before announced and how I somehow know all the indicators that align to make me feel and live the British Autumn. So now I find myself feeling slightly discombobulated in this different place - the Atlantic separating me from my British Autumn but I’m comforted too - we are not so different and people here are anticipating the Autumn and enjoying the late harvest just as we do in Blighty.
The Autumnal Equinox has been and is still known by other names, some call it Second Harvest, some call it Mabon, Alban Elfed. Autumn is known simply and beautifully as Fall in Canada and the States. The word transition is used by many people here to describe this time, it feels gentler than the word change. Gratefulness for the harvest is percieved as corncobs, brassica and fruits are bought from roadside stalls - made all the better by the chat with the stall holder who cares about the food they are selling and an air of contemplation about winter ahead. I’m told that this time of the year can bring Hurricanes to Nova Scotia and I think of the fresh Autumn winds we get back home that whilst problematic not wreckers at the scale experienced here many years.
Perhaps this unfamiliarity is making me more receptive and considerate of a need to be open to what comes our way. I’m feeling such joy seeing the familiar, not only reminding me of home but also that it lives here too just slightly differently. And after all isn’t this time of the year just about things being slightly different, transitioning until we reach the next marker in our annual celebrations. It makes me feel a sense of peace at a time when this is such a rare and needed thing. I can only hope that if enough of us can find a sense of calm and peace that others may follow.
So let us delight in our surroundings, no matter where we call home, and marvel at what we see and experience, give a moment for thanks and a moment for witnessing Autumn coming into our lives once more.
We were lucky enough to see a spectacular Full Super Moon a couple of days ago here, a local called it Grandmother Moon. The
Mi’ kmaq believe that each thing in nature has a spirit and that we are connected through our daily life with the natural world and Mother Earth. This brings respect to all things from sea to sand to rocks to flora, to fauna to celestial plains. The year is split into 12, by the moons (occasionally13) and each sector is representative of a natural event such as The Running of Maple Syrup (Si’Ko’Ku’s), The Croaking of Frogs. We will be working more with this beautiful way to mark the year and hope to share it with you next year.
At heart we are still British Island Folklorists but seeing how ‘our’ folklore has travelled to this land and the folklore of other countries and has been of such interest to see how it has changed to suit the people, the land, the climate. Together with our gaining an appreciation of the indigenous First Nation people’s folklore and knowledge has inspired and opened our eyes as we see and hear a familiar unfamiliar. That is our transition and our gentle harvest this year.
Hoping your harvest and transition into Autumn is gentle too and that we all continue to find wonderment by small things such as a leaf turning red no matter where we are on our beautiful earth.
