ferries in mid-river

From the air, New Brunswick is green and blue. Lots of forests, and lots of water — rivers, lakes, wetlands and the sea. The river ferries are part of the road network here. There’s no charge to drive your car onto this cable ferry that crosses from Gondola Point to the Kingston Peninsula. Sometimes you have to wait to get on the ferry, but it’s always a treat to ride across the water, a fun cruise, especially on a day like this. Enjoy the ride!

Taken on August 7, 2010

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morning commute

I laughed the first time someone told me that the traffic was bad in Saint John. Ha, I retorted, this is nothing like Toronto! Living here, you can get everywhere in the city in 10 minutes, so what’s to complain about? That’s probably not the best way to respond to Saint Johners, who — unless they’ve actually lived “away” — will already be harbouring a grudge against Toronto, and all of central Canada to be honest, for taking away all the industry that used to be here, leaving the Maritimes with a declining population and economic base. Well, of course that’s ancient history now, I mean we wouldn’t know what to do with woolen mills now even if they had stayed here, but Saint Johners have long memories. Long memories and a tendency to complain about the traffic.

Taken on June 22, 2010

three red cars

There is an art to intersections, to driving in the city. Urban traffic has a syncopated rhythm: hurry – waaaait, stop – go! Weaving between lanes and lines is the rhumba of highways. The dance of intersections is the rhythm of the city, as you move from one set of lights to the next in an extended waltz with different partners. Cars, of course, prefer fast highways and country roads, with wide-open vistas and no stop sign in sight. As drivers, we are easily seduced by speed. We prefer open spaces and back roads, reluctant to bow to the slow dance of intersections where there are rules and courtesies and we have to wait, for a moment, for our turn.

Taken on June 15, 2010

cul-de-sac

There is something slightly unreal — or perhaps surreal — about living on a residential area, a neighbourhood of picket fences and hedges and small tidy lawns, cars parked neatly in their respective driveways along the shady street. I’ve always been an uptown dweller, living in apartments, meeting neighbours on the stairs or in the corner store. Now we have our own tiny house and yard and lawn and garden. And I love it.

Taken on April 25, 2010