So a month and a half ago ago, Steven and I were at a junk shop a few towns over and discovered the strangest thing: a detailed painting of the harbor in Seal Cove, our favorite town on the tiny island of Grand Manan. I mean, this is a tiny town on an even tinier island -- it simply is not known unless you've been there. And Steven was overjoyed.
But the painting is huge. And ugly, I argued. Where was it going to go? We left empty-handed, except I had a grumpy Steven on my hands. So then, how is it that we find it now on the wall of his office?
Well, my soon to be sister-in-law Danielle was kind enough to take me back to the junk store, and we searched the whole place, up and down, but no Seal Cove painting. Dejected, we decided to shop anyway, and then entirely by chance, wedged behind a dresser, there it was:
This is such a pretty little town, and I've even started half not-hating the painting. It was worth suffering through a bad painting to see how pleased Steven was. And besides, I miss the real place, and the painting has a certain Rousseau-charm.
The buildings at water's edge used to be canneries for scallops and mackerel. Today they are empty and rusting away, and look like this:
Almost Shaker, no? So foursquare. A utilitarian Venice:
And the levels of water are similarly variable. The same buildings, a few hours later:
The idea of canned seafood has never appealed, but I would buy anything packaged like this:
These are antique labels from Seal Cove, found stuffed in the walls of an abandoned cannery:
But mostly I will remember Seal cove from the water, getting smaller every moment as we pulled out to sea ...
to visit these fellows: