The place, Labrador, must be beautiful, the North Atlantic a swelling gray flow and endless. I am thinking of that place and seeing it in my mind, but then I see my garden and the bright yellow mustard flower. the two images combine and then i see the yellow painted broken line in the ocean.Like a state highway. And everything is paved over with dark wet clouds, chilly, everything damp, especially the matches. It pours and pours and the chill is equal to the chilled produce section at Hannaford’s. Which sounds cheerful to me, but I am just going to sit here and develop gills so I may draw a breath easier.  there are wet spots on the ceiling above my bed and in Gabriels room, but it hasn’t stopped raining long enough to have someone look at it. I would like to have a nice new metal roof, and hear it thunder when it rains.

So I have lived close and right by the Atlantic Ocean before, but never as North as Labrador. Some of the weather we in Northeast Vermont are experiencing is from there, right today and now it is, anyway. It (the weather) came down from Labrador and settled in New Brunswick,  and something is drawing it in, and there you have it.

But by the ocean, these long hours and days of rain are not as dark. And here, in our lush rain forest everything is green, everything except the mammals and birds and human made things . Half of the horizon is one large forest and it is deep green, jade green, forest, (duh), green , olive green, silver green, blue green, emerald green, kelly green, and that does not reflect light as well. And while the ocean moves in a roll, or is choppy, or is flat and still , it is water meeting water, and somehow looks and feels righteous.

Here, among trees and bushes and grasses and mosses and vines, and flowers and berries, we have had enough. The woods seem indeed to want to march to Dunsinane.they are swelled with  water enough to pull up their roots and march right up.

We could be shifting climates, meaning that with the change that is happening, we are too far north to get all that heat the rest of North America will be getting. Heat rises and so as it meets the colder air that is moving because it is being displaced by warming trends, it condenses, it condenses for fucking days on end. The cooler Labradorian air presses down and rides the air trough and stalls. Welcome to Climate change.

I will tell you this, the berries were excellent this year, my potato plants look elegant, peasently, but elegant. The cabbages family, known as Brassicas are loving it. The snap dragons, as I, are growing gills. The beans are numerous but are not really growing up much, the sweet potatoes are also slow, the dill looks like something Martha Stewart would grow and photograph.(I think the gardening is actually done by others, right?).

The silver ocean, the salty wet rocks, and I remember when boats used rope, instead of poly twine,, and that rope was cold and bristly and would have weeds stuck to it, nice bits of brown green kelp, alive. And empty beaches to run my dogs on, because bathers and sun soakers were not there, but for a surfer or two bobbing along, or a surf caster, and that fresh smell of ocean oxygen.

Inland, there are flowers. And maybe Ents. Lamps turned on, warm food and 99% dry shelter (cept for them spots on the ceiling).  An old friend lost her Mom to that place our love goes, in the end. I read the obituary, it was touching because I knew her daughter, when we were all younger and had so many more steps to take. It was mentioned that the woman was an avid swimmer and taught it to others, and just swam. All this water is  auspicious,  for her soul. And ours too. Perhaps she is swimming to Labrador.


One thought on “Labrador”

  1. Just finished watching film “Hereafter” It was kind of corny but still gives me food for thought as I grow closer to my end. There’s no proof except so many who have died briefly but come back have described similar collective experiences. It is all happening in our brains as we near death then make some meaning of where we are going next. I will try to think upon Ireland. That counts in my life as a spiritual happening.

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