We've just returned from an almost garish weekend trip to the East Coast. Yes, I jauntily flew 5 hours (one way) for a weekend. What an indulgence. And oh so necessary. Now, if only the lottery folks would understand that I need to do this more than once every 3 years.

My soul is well, better now. I was reminded of my love for my husband, my love for friends (old and new), my love for Halifax and all its rotten charms and tourist traps, my love for the ocean and falling leaves and leaves falling in the ocean, my love for foghorns and even cruise ship bellows, my love for beer, my love for simply strolling, my love for me and my soul.

Just a sailboat, as seen from our sailboat.

Coming home with Kate and her family after we sailed and ate. A day spent with friends old and new. Capped with beers cuddled under Kate's mom's quilt and quiet conversations about love, grief, picky eaters, firefighting, vegetarianism, health care reform, friends, creativity, writing, boats, and love again.
PS Barb, I'm sorry we missed each other. Next time!

Celebrating the marriage of one of my oldest friends to the woman who clearly makes his heart dance and leap.
Boys being boys at the Seaport.

Colourful inspiration at the farmers' market.

Waterfront details that warm the cockles.

Halifax details that blow your mind with stories.

Late night shenanigans with the best man on Earth. We got ourselves sorted out in Halifax over 14 years ago and did so again this weekend.

It's a good thing I have my soul, because I'm pretty sure my heart was wrenched from me, tied to a heavy rock, and thrown in the Atlantic. At least I'll have a good excuse to go back.