To be honest I haven’t had the best of weeks. To put it politely there have been a few flies in the milk to turn me off cereal for awhile.
Nothing too earth shatteringly awful happened to me this week it was more a build up of small frustrations. I was designated to decorate the blue berry creams but the chocolate wouldn’t cooperate and come out of the squeeze bottle smoothly and I had some epic failures. For the most part they turned out fine, but they could have been better. It turns out the Island does get hot and humid and this week was a good example of that. The shop was particularly humid which affected the chocolate making the butter creams very soft and difficult to roll them cleaning, it also made it difficult to enrobe them. I was asked to pull an order for one of our stores and it took me the better part of the day to sift through the cases of chocolates. My dyslexia did not help matters and eventually the numbers all started to run together and I became more frustrated and ultimately I forgot to add a few boxes of sea salt caramels to the order. Thankfully it was caught in time and no one went without their caramels, goodness knows the world would have ended had they gone without. On top of all that there was a general cloud of displeasure shadowing the chocolate shop this week. It was just one of those weeks where no one really cared to be anywhere and we all just wished we could be alone.
On Friday night after the havoc of the week was over I b-lined it for the beach as fast as was legally possible. The beach was nearly deserted and I quickly tossed off my shoes and lingered along the shore breathing deeply. I found a piece of drift wood to rest on and watched the sky inflame as the sun went down. The ocean waves constantly roared with rolling laughter as they tossed themselves upon the sand. Jellyfish twirled involuntarily as waves swept them up and carried them to open water.
I was content to just sit there and watch the water. The waves were mesmerizing. They flowed consistently and yet changed with every break upon the shore. I bravely rolled up my pant legs and ventured into the chilly water up to my shins. With each wave that washed against me I felt a ribbon of Gods promise wrap around me telling me I would be ok, everyone has bad weeks, this was mine, just keep breathing. He had known it was a hard week for me and He remained at my side even when I didn’t want Him there. I was able to open up my lungs and stretch my head back and inhale the density of ocean air and the density of Gods faithfulness. This was my moment to sink and let Him breathe for me for a while and allow Him to be the brave one. To make the moment even sweeter I may or may not have stolen a reject raspberry cream from work and as I stood there drinking in a moment of rest I popped the chocolate into my mouth. The chorus of raspberry butter cream and dark chocolate made my lips crescendo into a smile. As the sun fell into rest I too pointed my way home to my own bed and fell into a delicious slumber.
The weekend came as a glorious relief to the crumby week. My Saturday activities included creeping on my friends via Facebook for the better part of the morning and in the afternoon I broke out the creativity and fashioned a few cards to send to family and friends.
Sunday was joyous! The sun was happily shinning, the breeze was tingling with mischief and the aroma of Charlottetown air was a mixture of waffle cones, soft serve ice cream, warm pavement, and fish n’ chips. What made Sunday especially wonderful was the solo road trip I ventured on to Dover. You may be saying, “I don’t know where Dover is.” Neither do I and a neither does a decent chunk of Islanders. I discovered that once you get to the very eastern part of the island destinations are marked by land marks and family farm names, however Google Maps doesn’t have that setting when plotting a destination, if they did I probably wouldn’t have gotten as lost as much as I did. But I made it, in one piece and it only took me an hour and a half as opposed to the 40 minutes Google Maps suggested it would take. When I arrived at the house of my dear friend Debra, I was greeted by one of the boys I lived with in university, Andrew. He has moved to the Island for the summer to be with his girlfriend and her family. Debra and Andrew gave me the grand tour of Debra’s farm and I got to meet all of her animals. There is Dexter the horse who ‘kissed’ my chest, more like bit me. Daisy the calf who sucked on my fingers. There is nothing like letting a calf suck on your fingers to melt away the stress of a difficult week. They have two pigs, who remain nameless so let’s call them Bacon and Sausage, and two kittens who were shy at first but after some coaxing from Mama Jo and some treats they came out and allowed me to pet them. Oh it felt good to be on a farm once again, it made me miss the stretch of my own homestead.
To kick off our many summer adventures we have planned we decided to start at the beach. Debra, Andrew, myself and a smash up Debra’s family and friends spent an evening at the White Sands beach by Murray River. As you stand on the shore and look out over the water off in the distance you can see Pictou Nova Scotia on the opposite shore. I was fascinated that I could see Nova Scotia just across the water. The distance didn’t seem that far of a stretch and I got the idea in my head to kayak across it one day. I don’t know if it will happen this summer but you will certainly hear about it if I do.
The cliffs on the White Sands beach were fabulous for climbing. Like a squirrel scampering up a tree I nimbly scaled the cliffs as high as I could go. It was spectacular! As I climbed higher and I higher I could see the Nova Scotia horizon clearer and look out over the stretch of beach at more cliffs and caves to explore. Had we but an hour more of sunlight I would have climbed them all, but as the sun began to set it was time to head back to our camp fire.
There is something magical about the first camp fire of the summer. It’s full of treasures, lost stories, good friends, and the snap and crackle of fire licking away at spruce wood. Hot dogs were roasted, marshmallows were burned, one of the blankets almost caught fire and much laughter at each others expense was made. When the conversation faded I was encouraged to bring out my guitar and play a few songs. I have never played my guitar around a beach camp fire before and I was surprised at how natural it felt to me. Concerts, performances, leading worship and other such high pressure musical territory I am well experienced in. But picking up my guitar on a whim and strumming out a few songs without hours of preparation I couldn’t really wrap my head around. We sang some well known worship songs but it was nothing too extravagant, just a handful of youngsters filling the evening with music and fellowship. It felt right. I didn’t even mind hitting a wrong note once or twice, the snap of the fire always filled in where I fell out. The night was simply beautiful, a gateway to what the rest of the summer will be.