Constant Beauty

 I think if one is born to an environment of natural beauty one can be immune to it.

I find this immunity prevalent amongst many of my Newfoundland people.

Yesterday I trotted out to pick up some groceries and asked my friend with dementia if she'd like to come along and she was thrilled. I can't abide shopping and pre-order my groceries on line and then have them all loaded into my car at the pickup.

I stopped outside my home and took this photo of the fog over the Atlantic in the distance and the blues just took my breath away. "Isn't it stunning?" I said to my friend as I snapped away. "I suppose," she answered, a born and bred Newfoundlander.

So this is for Marge, who is a faithful follower and loves fogs as much as I do.

We picked up the groceries and I asked her if she'd like to trot up to Middle Cove, the glorious beach near where we live and she agreed. I said I come up here a lot and she said she would come there a lot as a child and I said never since? And she said no. I was shocked. She took a long walk on the beach. I took some photos. There were many there, kids and dogs and some fishing off the shore.

We sat for a while and she became quite emotional, remembering the picnics and "boil-ups" on the beach as a child. It had never occurred to her to just visit and just be there for an afternoon.

So I talked of the healing effect of sitting by the ocean and all its different moods. And to reflect on how small we all are in the overall scheme of things.

And she agreed and said she had been so agitated about so many different things and her stress had been bad and now she could feel herself relaxing.

Her gratitude quite overwhelmed me, she went on and on about the afternoon and what a mighty gift I had given her.

And I was reminded of something I had learned a long time ago.

Measure wealth not by the stuff you own and hoard, but by the things in life that don't cost a penny.

A Mini-tour of St. John's, Newfoundland Yesterday

We get quite a few cruise ships in our wonderful harbour here in St. John's. Yesterday it was the Insignia. So I toddled down to the harbour front to have a gawp.

There was a lot of traffic down there so I couldn't get far enough away to get a good shot of the whole ship so I decided to go to the south side of the harbour, which is always devoid of tourists and vehicles and crammed with boats of all kinds, fishing, service and coast guard.

So I took another shot of the ship across the harbour.

It's always lovely over there, I saw this gull sitting on a pole surveying the scene. You might have to embiggen to spot him but he caught my fancy.

I love the houses climbing the cliffs surrounding the entrance to the harbour.

I then took myself off up Signal Hill, which was crowded with busloads off the cruise ship and I overheard some conversations. Apparently this cruise line speccializes in off the beaten track cruises and their enraptured comments about St. John's were pleasing,

I stopped to talk to a woman who had six dogs and I fell in love with all of them.

I am old so no one gives a tosser when I am listening to conversations, I have the advantage of being invisible. So I was sitting on a wall behind two thirty-ish men who were holding hands, standing extremely close to each other, pretending to be catching the spectacular view but their undercurrent was electrifying. Summary: they were on the cruise, had met the night before on the deck at midnight, were married (to unsuspecting women?) and were planning another midnight sojourn once more when the ship sailed later on, meanwhile they had to get back to their wives who were left browsing in the tourist shop. As they were whispering intensely I took this photo of a fishing boat heading out to the open ocean. I am always struck by the forty shades of blue we have out here.

And I pondered on the secret lives of others.