Tantramar and Jolicure

  I left early on Saturday morning to visit with a friend who lives in the small college town of Sackville.

A mile from home, a deer leaped across the road in front of me, reached the edge of the pavement, then turned and stood to take me in.  I had stopped easily, but we were very close and we visually visited for the few minutes before she moved on into the woods.


Around the bend, I watched a pheasant hen and her five young ones picking at something they found to eat at the end of a farm lane.

I had no choice but to take the TransCanada Highway next, but veered off as quickly as I could, heading to the little village of Jolicure ( just a crossroads and a sign, really ) to visit my favorite flock of sheep, and then on to the Tantramar Marsh.

The road quickly turned to dirt, and in the Marsh, the view expands to “forever”.  

It’s a sacred hayfield, peppered with old barns that are slowly falling down.  I mourned the latest one that was kneeling into the ground, and breathing deeply, drove through the covered bridge and into my day.

At home, I have paintings I’ve done of the marsh barns and the Jolicure sheep as gentle reminders of their beauty...........but they’re without the smell of the grass, the bleeting of the sheep and the sound of the tires rolling over the old wooden boards of the covered bridge.