Nova Scotia I: Where to begin?

What a monstrous clean up is required.

We arrived at the property yesterday afternoon.  It was a beautiful day to first see it, sunny and mild.  Nova Scotia is gorgeous; I love it, all the churches and mix of colorful small houses and rolling hills of trees.  We hacked our way into the “driveway” far enough for my dad to park his truck in, and set up our tents and screened refuge.

The neighbour came over, pointed out a couple of wells and a survey pin.  I like the wells.  They seem built to last, and full.  Of course, it’s been very wet lately in Nova Scotia; everything is very green and lush.

My brother’s pictures manage to make everything look romantically weathered, but the reality is pretty dismal.

The house is a disaster of garbage.  The floors are covered with disintegrating debris that used to be clothing and bedding and paper, etc.  The drywall is rotting on the walls, the roof is breached, and the whole thing is tipping, drifting sideways off the dubious “foundation” points.  The whole thing hovers over a hole in the ground that’s full of water and more garbage.

I’m disappointed that I can’t save the house.  Dad says I can’t, that every aspect of it is compromised now.

The barn roof and loft have collapsed, and there are other little outbuildings and former outbuildings that have started to return to the earth.

There is still a meadow.  The aspens slope towards the middle, clearly seeding themselves further into the field every year.  There are fruit trees everywhere, but it’s like espionage, finding them.  The other trees are growing up so thickly through and around them that the canopy has completely closed over them.

Apparently it’s black fly and tick season, with a few deer flies thrown in for good measure.  I’m really not used to these, and am savaged with bites like a treeplanter.  My ears and knuckles are hot with bites, and of course, the real bites are multiplied by the phantom bites.

I spent the night in the house.  There was just enough floor clear in front of the big window upstairs to set up my tent. What a long day.

Comprehensive deticking was in order, and that had me taking flash pictures of my back in the cramped tent to see if I had any ticks on me (seven, on top of the dozen that I found during the day).  Sleep was not easy, as phantom insects continued to molest me all night.

Where to begin?

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