“is this a dream?”
i was in Nova Scotia last weekend—dreamy, laid-back Nova Scotia. my bff terra is from the Annapolis Valley and when i heard she was going home to the family farm for a few weeks i booked a flight to tag along on her holiday.
to set the scene: my cell phone didn’t even get reception on the farm. goodbye, stresses and distractions of home! also, i was sleeping on a waterbed, which is pretty much like sleeping on a warm cloud. each morning i would lazily wake up and join the family for breakfast on the patio—where hummingbirds would be buzzing overhead as we discussed plans for the day.
plans? okay more like “shall we go over to the neighbours’ farm and pick some blueberries?” and “after we get ice cream from the local dairy do you want to swim in the river or go to our friend’s pool?”
despite how often i’ve been buying produce at farmers’ markets this summer, i was absolutely overwhelmed with what we ate. eggs. EGGS! did you know they taste like custard when they come from a happy, wandering hobby farm chicken? blueberries were also a shock: sure, Muskoka’s wild blueberries are a delight, but in Nova Scotia blueberry bushes are everywhere and they produce perfect, juicy sweet-sour fruit as big as olives.
on sunday morning, i was handed a lobster claw the size of my fist. terra’s sister hannah knows how much i love the ‘cream’—and this claw, just scooped of its meat (for the lobster eggs benny we were about to brunch on) had a deep well of cream that i ate with my fingers while terra’s dad poured us glasses of champagne.
however, as much as fresh lobster and farm eggs can influence a girl, my heart had already switched allegiances from city life to country living on saturday night. we thought we were going to just watch a few bands play at a neighbour’s house—instead we landed (and i say landed because we walked up a very steep dirt road through forest) at an almost-impromptu music festival on a private property with views of both the valley below and meteor shower overhead.
and really, once you’re standing in a field with a plastic cup of wine and listening to a band that sounds like Neil Young slash Mumford & Sons you’re trapped in a cycle of “i need to enjoy this as much as possible right now but also how can i duplicate this moment over and over again?”