I have been without internet for the past several days, perhaps the longest time I have gone without connectivity since I first went online sometime in the 90s. My sole connection to the outside world has been The Globe and Mail, which has done an admirable job of keeping me up-to-date on current events, so at least I’ve been comfortable in the knowledge that the planet has not imploded during my self-imposed web exile.
In the space of three weeks or so, I have put some 4000 miles on my trusty Civic, driving a circuitous route from Prince Edward Island to Nashville and back, pushing its odometer over the 20,000 mark, finally. It performed splendidly, returning better than 35mpg overall, with the air conditioning blasting most of the time, and the trunk and interior of the car crammed with stuff in every conceivable cubbyhole: bags upon bags of clothing from L.L. Bean, Eddie Bauer, and Tommy Hilfiger outlet stores; colorful Fiestaware dishes, service for eight, to replace the chipped and mismatched dinnerware in my PEI kitchen; a hundred-odd trade paperback books from BookPage, perhaps more, in boxes and bags, with a few stragglers slid under the driver’s and passenger’s seats; and a slew of water-resistant gear to combat the inevitable nasty weather of Canso, Nova Scotia, site of Stanfest, arguably the best folk music festival in North America. Oddly, and thankfully, the Canadian Rain Gods were complacent this year, and appreciative concertgoers had sunlit skies for the full three days of the concert, unlike last year, when it rained virtually the entire time. A brief flashback: the hardy attendees of Stanfest 2009, individually draped in clear ponchos and rain sheets, prompted singer Don McLean to observe (accurately) from his onstage viewpoint: “Wow, you guys look like a bunch of giant condoms!”
So, sunny Stanfest behind us, we finished the last leg of the journey with an hour-plus car-ferry ride aboard the MV Confederation, the larger and more luxurious of the two vessels making the run from Caribou, Nova Scotia to Wood Islands, PEI. Before the bridge was completed to Prince Edward Island in the late 1990s, the only way to get to PEI was by ferry, and I make it a point to take the ferry at least once every summer, in homage to simpler times gone by.
The house is pretty much as I left it, although the lawn has morphed into something resembling a miniature Jurassic Park in the interim. I would have gotten out the lawn mower in a seemingly vain attempt to beat back the forest, truly, but the aforementioned Canadian Rain Gods apparently decided to unleash the heavens sometime during the night, so I have been spared that unpleasant task for another day or so. Instead, I will busy myself with indoor errands, and of course post several catch-up installments to Mysterious Orientations. Check back soon!