Sunday, July 21, 2013

Houses of The Bay of Fundy shore

Emily Dickinson

I feel that Emily would have loved the Bay of Fundy and would have perched in many a widows peek to scroll out a poem or two.Grand houses and orchards along the Bay.

Have you a little brook in your heart
Where bashful flowers blow
And blushing birds go down to drink
And shadows tremble so      E.D.

caring of the vine

In London the is a man caring for a vine
Time makes truth of what appears to be
Unfathomable, a magnum opus
There is no reason,no purpose
Simply the caring of the vine.           Caithleen C
arter Steeves  

My nosegays are for captives;
Dim long expectant eyes;
Fingers denied to plucking
Patient till paradise

To such if they should whisper
Of morning and the moor,
They bear no other errand
And I no other prayer........E.Dickinson.

Saturday, July 20, 2013

along these shores

Along these shores when I was a girl we ate.goose tongue greens clams and sandfire greens.Shad,smelts and mackerel.I never tire of gazing out the flats to the Great Mystery beyond.

The Second Coming

TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of i{Spiritus Mundi}
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at laSt,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? 

Friday, July 19, 2013

Growing up along these shores we became familiar with stories,songs,fiddles,piano,harmonica and accordion or the squeeze box,my Grandpa Herman called it.  We gathered weekly for such entertainment.Stories about tinkers,Indians, and ghosts were common among the  old ones, who loved to keep their land and its people alive into the next generation.
The last walking salesman was the Raleigh's man, who walked each month through our dirt roads carrying and old leather suit case.
We were told to play very carefully along the woodland pathways behind our house,and not to walk on the Indian graves there.I always felt connected to them and would look for them as I went through the woods to Gran Fenton"s house.I would learn 40 years later of my true nature as an adoptee.My great, great Grandmother and Grandfather  on my mother Carter's side were Amerindian.Living alomg the shores of the St.John river.
We hope you enjoy your visit here and make time in your life to appreciate nature along your life path.May you walk in beauty all your days always.  Caithleeen

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Ancient Celtic Prayer of the Druids

The Mystery
This poem is ascribed to Amergin, a Milesian prince or druid who settled in Ireland hundreds of years before Christ
and is from the Leabhar Gabhala, or Book of Invasions. The poem is translated by Douglas Hyde (see note below).
I am the wind which breathes upon the sea,
I am the wave of the ocean,
I am the murmur of the billows,
I am the ox of the seven combats,
I am the vulture upon the rocks,
I am the beam of the sun,
I am the fairest of plants,
I am the wild boar in valour,
I am a salmon in the water,
I am a lake in the plain,
I am a word of science,
I am the point of the lance of battle,
I am the God who created in the head the fire.
Who is it who throws light into the meeting on the mountain?
Who announces the ages of the moon?
Who teaches the place where couches the sun?
                                     (If not I)
"Life on the Fundy shore is still firmly rooted in the traditional pursuits of lumbering,farming and fishing"(Harry Thurston,Pg 151,Tidal Life.

Bay of Fundy Country

This is a dream come true for me, ever since sitting in Irish Studies class with Professor Cyril Byrne at St. Mary's University in Halifax and hearing the many sights and sounds of the ancient bards and poets,Olaves and minstrels,I've felt in my soul to create a project where this all could be on display.I thought of writing a book but that didn't pan out,then there was a photoproject but that all came down to having photoshop know how.So talking to day with Mike gave me the idea of blogging it, consolidating it all into a blog package and since Ive been here on my blog room now for five years or so, and  I get great comfort in the idea. So,here it is.I have complete assurance that the material can be as original,inspiring and informative as I would like it.I want others to experience the beauty that the tides, the air, the water, and the land extend to us all.The gathering of this information and the journey will be mentioned from time to time.I sold Celtic garden rocks at one point to buy gas for my old VW pop-up camper van in Truro and Moncton to buy the gas for two photoshoots.My deep gratification towards Co-Op stores for their support.Also Allan Silliboy of Millbrook Reserve thank you for your support and the hairdressers of Liz's Salon in Truro, thanks!!!The Fairtrade Cafe where I camped out many nights singing to releive the frustration of designing and planning the next photo trip during that summer,my heartfilled thanks.To Les whom I never met who's wife sold me the camper to do the project in many good wishes.I know he would love this project and is looking over us from above in smiles.
My deepest gratitude to Dr.Winston Barnwell for awakening my Celtic soul and teaching me "the magic is real.Love you always.
Having grown up on the Bay it seemed the perfect stage to set my poets and bards into action.The tribal call of my ancestors will be heard here,the beauty of story from growing up there may be heard as well.Not only from me but from poets like Bliss Carmen, a photo from Mary Mikea,from Mary's Point, or a quote from Harry Thurston, one of my maritime heroes.
So lets be on our way.Above is a rainbow off the skies of Moncton and so we shall begin in the southern shores of New Brunswick, not far from my childhood town of Hopewell Cape,work along the Minus basin of Nova Scotia and wind up on the far shores of Brier Island.This is about the countryside and the peoples of The Bay of Fundy.From the shores of Germany, they came France,Holland, England,Ireland and Scotland to name a few.They fished they did carpentry work,gardening, and created a wonderland of culture rich in its history.They lived in harmony with tidal rivers,salmon,sea bass,smelts and mackerel and marsh grasses effortlessly blowing up out of dark rich muddy shores.The tides were quick and so the living reflected this in the way the people lived.Early to rise to plan around the tides and the ways of the moon.
For a more indepth study of the ways of the people and practises around tidal living I suggest you read Harry Thurstons amazing book titled "Tidal Life" a natural history of the Bay of Fundy.