Pitcher Plant

It was a two hour drive and whenever I headed out on the highway to go to the city, I would take my camera. The landscape in Newfoundland is beautiful any time of the year and I didn't want to miss a thing. A friend, who is also a photography buff, came along on the trip. I could always count on her, when I was focused on driving, to make me "stop and smell the roses" along the way.

The first half of the trip we spent catching up on old news and sharing photo ideas, and then all of a sudden she said "stop the car". Off to the left, there was a marsh covered with brilliantly colored pitcher plants, Newfoundland and Labrador's provincial flower. We had time to spare and couldn't resist an opportunity to capture them at their best. It was a warm, slightly overcast day, and the bright red flowers stood out brilliantly against the mossy green and yellow marsh, in perfect contrast. I am amazed at how these plants survive so beautifully in such conditions. We decided to take a closer look and got out to stretch our legs and breathe the delicious fresh air.

I went around the back of the car to get my camera and called out to Wanda to ask what she was wearing on her feet. We were dressed for city shopping, not a walk in a bog, but never knew where we would end up on a road trip. From off in the distance, she replied "sandals". She was already out on the marsh, and didn't mind at all that her feet were soaked. Not to be outdone of course, I had to follow.

If you want to get a good shot of a pitcher plant, you need to get down to it's level, which is about a foot off the ground, to truly appreciate the shape of the flower, and the sturdiness of the leaves and stem. It didn't take long to realize it wasn't easy to maintain your balance on the wet, uneven surface, while squatting and trying to steady a camera at the same time, in order to get eye-level with a pitcher plant. Needless to say we took a few spills but had a great laugh trying to capture the moment. It was, without a doubt, the highlight of my day.

The pitcher plant is a great choice for Newfoundland and Labrador's provincial flower. In spite of our changing climate, the sturdy plant endures whatever nature throws at it, and still stands tall in striking color. It is illegal to cut them, but we can capture them through photography and enjoy them forever. It is their strength and beauty that reminds me of the courage, and a relentless will to survive, that is our heritage.

The Root Cellar

"Don't walk across the top of the cellar".  My dad's words still echo in my head whenever I think about the old root cellar in the side of the hill behind our house. When I was growing up, I thought it was just something we were not allowed to do, but never really thought about the fact that it was for our own safety. As a child, I was afraid to go inside. The very thought conjured up images of a dark, damp place, that was probably haunted and crawling with spiders. Dad had nothing to worry about if he thought I might get too close to a cellar.  Some of the old structures were ready to collaspse, and he was simply protecting us.

Root cellars were dug out of the side of a hill, and were supported inside with wood beams. Rocks and sods were used to frame a wooden door. Sods were then laid across the top outside to provide extra insulation during the cold weather in winter, and the heat of summer. This underground storage facility naturally provided an ideal temperature, and humidity control. Saw dust was often used to cover and protect the crops. The cellar was used mainly to store vegetables, such as potatoes, carrots and turnip,  and at times, for storage of preserves and meats as well.

Looking back, I can appreciate how important cellars were to the families who built them. I remember how hard my grandparents worked, cutting up potatoes for seed, and the many long days they spent in the garden planting and weeding. My grandfather would walk for miles pushing a wheelbarrow filled with caplin to use as fertilizer,  and then spread them neatly between the rows in the garden. We grew many varieties of vegetables, and everyone took part in the harvest. The produce was kept in cold storage in the cellar, or cold-packed in mason jars, and provided food for the family year round. Nothing quite compares to the taste of vegetables from your own garden. It was as if you could taste the love and committment in every mouthful.

A few years ago I was taking a shortcut through the community where I grew up, and spotted an old root cellar. Ordinarily, I would never have taken my camera out in the rain, but that day, I jumped out of my car and took two shots. That picture will always remind me of the life I enjoyed so much growing up in rural Newfoundland. The photo is a way to pass on to my children the true meaning of perserverance and preservation. Root cellars are still very much an integral part of a way of life in some areas of Newfoundland and Labrador, to this very day.

Rattle Falls

The path was a little slippery after the rain but I knew there would be more water on Rattle Falls that day. I took my camera and walked until I found a good location to get a few shots. It was so peaceful with bright sunlight trickling through the trees overhanging the river and the sound of water rushing over the rocks.

I always feel sheltered here, comfortable and protected. There is a stillness so profound, broken only by a bird chirping from time to time, or a squirrel flitting through the bushes. I am surrounded by nature and can hear myself breathe. What an awesome place!

"Wow, this is amazing" I said out loud, and my own voice agreed with me as it echoed back. Water cascaded down over the steep, craggy cliff and settled in a swirling pool at the bottom, sending a mist in the air before overflowing softly into the river. You wonder sometimes why it never runs out of water or changes course like everything else in life. This is a place where I can put the rest of my life in perspective.

Over the years, I have come back here and it has never changed it's meaning for me. In the Fall, the leaves turn color and put on a real show for the camera. The trail into the woods is covered with a carpet of red, gold and orange. In the winter, the scene is always spectacular. Little mounds of snow cap the rocks and are trimmed neatly by water flowing past in the river. Long icicles hang off the cliff, and the branches of the trees are heavy with snow but still remain strong enough to carry the load. The space seems bigger and more open as some trees have shed their leaves. Water still finds it's way down through the ice and snow. In Spring, after enduring the cold winter climate, trees are relieved of their burden by the warmth of the sun, and once again burst into new growth, forming a lush green canopy over the path leading to the river.

Of all the places I have gone, Rattle Falls is one of my favorites. It is absolutely beautiful at any time of the year, and is a never-ending story that will be there for me, while the rest of the world changes around it.

Kippers On The Fire

It was a beautiful winter's day. The sun made the snow glisten and I knew it would warm up as the day wore on. I picked up my camera and called my neighbour to see if she wanted to go with me. She was an inspiration on long drives and always made me take time to stop when I might have gone on past the perfect picture. 

Being an adventurer herself, she decided it would be an ideal day to teach me how to cross-country ski. I rummaged through the shed and found an old pair of skis and boots my daughter had left behind. Not knowing I needed just the right "size" to do this, I figured if the skis had smooth bottoms and the boots were a half decent fit, I was prepared.

Of course I had to add to the fun and suggested we take my old black kettle, a wire rack for the fire, and some kippers (smoked herring) I had been longing to cook outdoors. I filled an old milk crate with newspaper and dry wood for the fire, packed food and water, put the skis in the car, picked up my neighbour and off we went.

We turned off the main highway and drove until we came to a pond where we used to fish. Building the fire close to the water for easy extinguishing seemed the natural thing to do. We unpacked the car and headed down to the edge of the pond and went to our knees in snow getting to what we felt was the perfect spot. For some reason, a fire by the edge of the road didn't have the same appeal.

There was an old woods road nearby, a nice level place for me to strap on the skis while waiting for the kippers to cook. This was easy. I headed down the middle of the old deserted road, slowly sliding one foot ahead of the other, and feeling very pleased with myself. I am not very brave in the woods so before long, I decided it was time to head back. Before I could turn around, I looked up and saw a truck coming towards me. The driver stopped and waited for me to make my move. In a panic and a hurry, I learned a few important facts about cross-country skiing. When your feet are six feet long, you can't turn around quickly on a narrow road, you can't crawl, and you can't run and hide. I pulled off the skis and moved off the road. The driver stopped beside me and rolled down his window. With a stone cold, yet somewhat sympathetic look he said "first time eh", rolled up his window and drove off. I picked up the skis, completely embarrassed, and walked back to the car.

The heat from the fire felt good, the black kettle was steaming, and the smell of kippers cooking filled the air. I took a couple of pictures of the fire and sat down on the milk crate to eat. My friend and I had quite a laugh as she described my skiing incident from her vantage point. I didn't learn to ski but that picture of our fire has sold more copies than any other single shot I have ever taken. I guess there are a lot of fellow Newfoundlanders who enjoy a taste of winter.