I mentioned Kingston Ontario in the post below. I grew up there, and couldn’t wait to leave.
There were a lot of advantages, Queen’s University’s diverse population exposed me to people from all over the world. I learned a lot about the corrections system. I was close to the US, and was given the opportunity to see top notch dance, music, art. I had opportunites to sing in every kind of church going.

But it isn’t where my heart is. I left that in Nova Scotia.
The first time I headed to the east coast on a job, I was smitten.

I’ve been watching the flooding on the south shore of Nova Scotia, a place where I settled and worked.
I know the lakes and river systems. I know the villages and towns and roads. I have friends there I owe my life to.
I can’t romanticise the lifestyle. It’s a tough place. As the fishing industry continues to falter, coastline and family properties have been bought up by Europeans who have discovered it’s beauty, forcing many people to leave.
It’s expensive to live there. Domestic violence is higher than most areas, poaching, drinking and drug smuggling are realities. Native Nova Scotians have to try to get back to school and retrain. But there is little or nothing for them.

I’ve been surprised at my reaction. I want to rush to the coast and help. But what surprises me the most is unbidden olafactory memory. As I watch the pictures on TV, I’m smelling the fog, the ground, the brine of the salt air, the muskiness of water too high. I’m smelling the woods and the oldness. I don’t like it, I don’t like to see the population facing long term clean up and costs many can ill afford. I don’t want to miss Nova Scotia and her people. But I do.
Be safe.