Sailing in Newfoundland

Conception Bay South, NL

View of Bell Island in the distance

July 17, 2013

 I lay back onto the deck and closed my eyes, relaxing all of my limbs, becoming even more aware of the gentle nudging of the waves. The sun was warm on my face, but not too warm. The breeze fluttered along my cheek but didn't chill it. It was a perfect day for sailing. 

I opened my eyes and allowed my gaze creep up the length of the mast. Beyond it, the brilliantly white clouds provided a fine accent to the azure sky. 

We had been out on the water for about three hours, and were now on our return voyage. My cousin, the captain, was inherently comfortable on the open water. His Dad, my uncle, instilled his love affair with sailing into his family, but I think to my cousin most of all. This, of course, trickled down into my cousin's own daughters, one of whom was joining us on this excursion. The two of them made a good team, easily interpreting orders while raising the sail, and providing feedback on where to drop the anchor. 

They had collectively decided it was a good day to moor at Kelly's Island, one of the three islands in Conception Bay South. It was quite a thrilll for my kids to sail onto the doorstep of this mass of rock that until now provided only a backdrop to numerous walks on the beach. The layers of sedementary rock formation are visible from land but downright captivating to observe close up:

As we made our way along the island's beach we had to stay a safe distance from its wall of rock for fear a shelf would give way! I felt like an explorer as we ascended the one safe path, excited to reach the top and see what it looked like. Of course, with its spruce trees and tall grass,  it resembled any other mass of forest in Newfoundland. But blend in the ocean view and distant community coastline and you know you're somewhere different. 

I had read in a tourism post somewhere that the ocean didn't bring icebergs this summer, but there were lots of whales. I reminded my boys of the whales we'd watched from the shore just a couple of evenings prior. So then, of course, we all began studying the rippled water for the chance to see one up close! And we weren't disappointed... we were treated to several sightings of whales as they gracefully surfaced. I captured a couple of them wth my 300 zoom lens but put it down soon after to ensure I also experienced it through my own lenses.

As that coastline became larger, I thanked my cousin for this incredible experience, and commented that I know he gets to do this whenever he wants (suggesting our elated reactions must seem excessive). But he smiled and said while that may be true, he still appreciates the thrill of being out here! I guess I knew that already but hearing it made the experience even more enjoyable for me!

A Decorated Wide Open Space

I shot this jaunty array of daisies just as the sun was setting on Conception Bay South, NL. Like a beautifully mismatched bouquet of flowers you'd pick for your kitchen table, it grows however it wants  along the top of the rolling expanse of beach rocks. 

They have the best view of Kelly's Island and the Bell Islands and the gulls that soar above them all. They can sway romantically in the evening summer breeze as they watch the sunset tinting the clouds a lemonade pink. They also have prime seating for the whale show that is on display this time of year that we were lucky enough to witness. It was neat to see this many whales sliding up out of the water at such close range... you could even hear them exhaling as they surfaced! It was an awe-inspiring display. And while I didn't have the right camera to capture the whales, I was able to capture a few flowers to remind me of how peaceful it was on the beach that night.

View from the 7th Floor of the Crowne Plaza Hotel, Niagara Falls, ON

September 2012

When I first began reviewing the series of photos I shot before and after attending a conference in Niagara Falls, I wondered how I would be able to differentiate between the early morning shots and the late evening shots. After all, I knew I had captured images from each side of the day, and that all of them would be equally daylight compromised.

Of course, as I continued browsing the photos, I discovered it was actually very easy to tell which were taken when! Niagara Falls at night are illuminated - brightly and colourfully and unmistakably. It's a cool addition to this attraction, making it visible for a longer period of time and giving it an artsy, metamorphic treatment, but it's nice to view without as well.

So you see before you a photo taken through my hotel window at around 6am.

When I look at this, what I remember most is the magical calmness of this typically active landscape, and how it allows one to listen to the serene sound of the perpetually falling water. I envy those locals who get to bask in the constant lull of nature's cadence every single day. And perhaps for many, the fact they can hear it all the time means they don't hear it at all. But I know that doesn't apply to all of them.

And even though I have lived within twenty minutes of this world famous natural attraction for as many years, I never tire of gazing at it, marvelling at it, photographing it, or listening to it.

At Solla Sollew, or rather St. John's Conservation Area on September 8, 2012.

I was sitting on my favourite bench with a notebook just listening to the breeze as it curled around the branches and tickled all the leaves. The air was so comfortable it was without temperature and I was so relaxed I was without concern. I didn't even wonder if there was anything crawling up my back or hovering over my head or preparing to bite at the skin on my ankles.

As I watched my boys scope out the banks of the beautiful River Wahoo.. er, St. John's Pond, I revelled in the joy of watching them become blissfully immersed in their endeavour: to capture a bullfrog. My oldest was stealthily carrying a brand new net - not a meagre dollar store attempt, but a serious metal handled net from Canadian Tire. He meant business. But the frogs weren't at all impressed - they didn't even show up in greeting.

After four methodical, focused treks around the pond combing through every foliage overhang in every nook, he hadn't seen one frog. It must be the time of year, I consoled, as he reluctantly placed the jilted net beside me. Still not ready to return to reality, his attention turned to creatures of the flying variety, which are always faithfully available in nature's lush playground.

The Right Shoulder of Niagara Falls

The only way you ever want to see the Horseshoe Falls from this vantage point is from the deck of a sightseeing boat!

Many locals I know will avoid the tourist area of Niagara Falls at all costs, only venturing into the camera-toting and fanny-pack-attired clutter when they are hosting visiting family members. Then it's okay because your clan is so enamoured of your touring abilities and enthralled at the idea of you actually getting to LIVE here and see such beauty every single day that you forget you're doing "tourist stuff".

Then there are those who embrace this effervescent industry and revel in that which draws people from all over the world - the endless array of activities as well as the vistas. Those are the people to whom I raise my glass. If you live here you may as well enjoy the benefits.

I joined a group who were visiting but who had been on the Maid of the Mist sometime during their lives. Aside from our various children, I was the only person in our party who had never been on it!

It was a wonderful day, mercifully less humid than in previous weeks. I shudder to imagine the feeling of those plastic blue ponchos fusing to the skin as would likely occur in the intense heat we had been having most of the summer!!! 

I loved the view as our boat nuzzled the crook of these Falls, showering us with mist. I delighted in the mild turbulence as the downward force of the water churned in the lower river, urging me to reach out and balance myself with a secure stance. I truly realised the sheer expanse of falling water as I literally panned my head from my right shoulder all the way to my left to see it all.

Why would people forego this cool experience just because they happen to share an address? It reminds you why travellers venture here just to see this natural wonder. Living close by and not having to expend huge amounts of money or vacation time to see it is a bonus!

Cape Spear, Newfoundland

I have navigated the barren mass of rock and grass that blankets Canada's most easterly point many times, but it's always been from the predictable and secure path of the boardwalk, Perched safely removed from the Atlantic Ocean's precarious activity, it is still an awesome view of an uninhibited natural setting . And with two small, fearless children to govern, predetermined safety is a desireable quality! I assumed this responsibility so obviously, as parents tend to do, that it didn't even occur to me to venture beyond the wooden railing.

But if you look across the middle of this photograph, you may discern a jaunty pathway that appears to be protected by a railing. During my visit this spring, I secured the opportunity to visit Cape Spear with my one son, who is now old enough to understand the capricious nature of the ocean and respect its potential force. It became less about keeping two curious little sets of feet away from danger, and more about exploring the craggy skirt of the cape. There was a trail where we hiked, but there were no barriers. It was safe, but you still had to step with so as to avoid being tripped by a delinquent branch  I was excited to be able to get a refreshing view of a familiar location, and he was thrilled to be given the trust and freedom to go somewhere a little more extreme. Plus he was getting to go somewhere that his little brother hadn't so I'm sure he thought that was cool!

A Vine Weevil checking out Signal Hill

St. John's, Newfoundland

When I contemplate summer's flame flickering its final breaths of vitality, I realise there are two aspects of this occurence that saddens me. And only two: the hibernation of my pedicure and the demise of the bug community.

I don't think I have to elaborate on the first item in any great detail..donning airy footwear that doesn't pinch at the backs of my heels or smother my painted toes continues to be one of summer's great carefree benefits. And I do miss it when I have to envelop my tootsies in cotton and thrust them into rigid walls of leather until springtime.

The second aspect of summer's end affects me pretty significantly, albeit somewhat indirectly. I personally do not have an affinity for six legged creatures.. I can coexist with them but I don't necessarily need to know they exist. I don't want them to feast on my appendages nor do I desire to share my home with them. I appreciate their quiet tendancies as well as the fact that they are two legs short of an arachnid.. but their absence has never caused a void in my life.

Then I had kids. My fourth grader is and always has been one with the bugs: Bug Lover, Bug Hunter, Bug Protector... his title evolves as he grows. And being incessantly curious and enthralled about the little beings, the onslaught of winter induces aggravating, endless, persistant boredom! Without day to day participation in the activities of nature's smallest tennants, he has minimal desire to venture outdoors at all. "But Mom.. there's no nature in winter!!!" he stresses.

Which induces aggravation for me, being vehemently enthralled about winter and all!!!

I admit I feel excited when I spot something that one just doesn't see every day.. even if it is vicariously. My son is proud to remind me that this phenomenon now even extends to spiders! (I'm proud of that as well but I still don't intend to allow one to graze my skin or clothing!) I will call him over upon discovering something crawling along a wall or fence. I'm excited about his passion, even when we are knee-deep in intermission. 

I consulted with him to obtain the name of the little guy, above, puttering along the rock wall that surrounds the Cabot Tower in Newfoundland! My son loves it when he gets to teach me things, and I think he's pleased to have been instrumental in today's posting because without identification, it would still be tucked away in my Drafts.

Vine Envy at Thirty Bench Winery in Beamsville, ON

On a Wednesday afternoon, a Thirty Bench Winery dandelion is once again faced with a view of impossibly tidy rows of fruit-bearing grapevines, and shivers with envy. Look at them, all proper and organised. Oh to be so refined, so revered, so coveted.... Surely the potential of a common dandelion pales in comparison to that of such a smart, cultivated vine. They get all the attention: the coddling, the support, and the praise. It's enough to make even the most gratified Taraxacum blow his seedhead.


Dandelion has no idea of how frequently the members of the stifled, restrained row of grapevines gaze out at this down-to-earth patch of free-spirited weeds and shiver with envy. It is oblivious to the soaring expectations placed upon every stalk in that vineyard.. the constant pressure to produce, the continuous demand for succulent results. If only it knew how much those stately stalks would love to just be a common weed, asexually regenerating in the breeze rather than bearing their burden of producing swollen, luscious grapes required to craft the next great vintage! It's enough to make even the most content Vitis split its grapes.

Manuels River, CBS, Newfoundland

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Without knowing a whole lot about snails I can only muse about what is taking place here. I like that each person's explanation would depend on their own outlook.. I know what I think is happening, but someone else could deduce something totally different. So, what do you think they are doing?

Are they engaging in a little competition, feverishly racing towards the finish branch as fast as their slimy undersides can move?

Have they just woken up and are now searching for a slippery little morsel to share for breakfast? Or maybe they did just wake up and are edging one another out of the way in order to be the one to find the first bug.... like siblings...

Perhaps they are out for their daily dose of exercise.... It wasn't without its own efforts, however - the one on the left had to coerce and nag and push the one on the right to get off the rock to get moving already…  but now, as with any exercise, they are both glad to have made the effort!

Without visible pathways or avenues, do they ever take the same path as yesterday? Or do they always? Do they argue about which way to go next? Does one snail demand that the other snail ask that ladybug over there for directions?

Are they twittering about their being dangerously exposed to predators? Perhaps it's because they haven't considered the possibility that if a winged creature were to look down in their direction, it would shudder at seeing two large yellow eyes looking up at it and fly on! Or... perhaps they are close together to produce that exact effect... 

Of course what they are really doing is being close together.... moving and breathing….exploring and existing.... forging ahead, encountering whatever obstacles intensify their journey, celebrating milestones like reaching the safety of the forest, making their way through the familiar as well as the unfamiliar, and sticking close to one another over the widest of gaps and the sharpest of shale.. knowing that even the most challenging surfaces can be enjoyed as long as you have someone with whom to experience them.

A Mom and her Children in Pelham, ON

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I was relaxing at the dinner table with my amiable sister-in-law, grazing on giardiniera as we discussed all of the simple but miraculous feats our respective moms were able to pull off hourly, without disdain, and always with finesse and proficiency. Many of our examples hovered around expertly crafted culinary creations, but regardless of the origin of the illustration, the general conclusion was the same:  "Mothers just do everything better," we mused.

There was only a microscopic pause before I heard her state "But, we're mothers!" 

This was more revelation than statement of fact.. one laden with disbelief and awe and even frustration. Part: "could we actually be in the same league as these awesome women", part: "wow that means we are in the same league as these awesome women!" But no fair...... why can't we perform at the same level with the same consistency encompassing the same range of tasks as they do?

The truth is, we can. And we probably do. It's just hard to imagine ever being able to provide to our families what's required while meeting the same high standards that we are used to receiving from our mothers. Our perception of what makes our moms "mothers" is totally different from the "mother" that we know ourselves, in our generation, to be. I guess it's like anything else: when you're chest-deep in something, it's difficult to stand back and look for it, much less acknowledge it and appreciate it!

It's good that we are in awe of our mothers, and even better that they are aware of our regards. We hope that our children will someday be in awe of us (or perhaps more accurately, we hope that our children will someday ADMIT to being in awe of us!!)

I wonder if other species of moms fuss and stress the way the human versions tend to do. While it's certainly not evident to me, I suppose in their own context, in their own language, they must: "I hope I picked a park without too many humans racing around." "Remember guys, if it's not moving, don't eat it." "Stop pecking at your brother!" "Oh, why can't I get these children to follow me today like they did yesterday?"

Because it sure seems effortless! Have you ever watched a string of goslings swimming behind mama goose? They follow along behind her in an impossibly perfect line. How on earth does she get them to do that?! Is it because their lives aren't laden with gastronomical offerings and technological temptations? Is it because of the simplicity of their choices? Is it their freedom from peer pressure and from comparing themselves to other web-footed moms?

I like to think that they are just doing what they know to do, without hesitation or criticism, without lamenting their choices or second guessing their decisions, without considering every possible terrible outcome that may result. They simply parent... because it is in their nature, and because that's what their moms taught them to do.

Manuel's River, Newfoundland

The sound of snapping twigs under my slow footsteps is like a metronome keeping time for my thoughts. It feels safe to set them free in a place like this, free to flutter about amongst the layers of spruce branches to mingle with the various flies.. house... butter.. damsel...


I discover a quiet place to sit and think... someplace where my wandering thoughts are supplemented by the throaty calls of the blue jays and the gentle rippling of the water at the river's framework.


Evidently, I am not the first person who sought refuge from a chaotic week and discovered it nestled in this pristine setting. I wonder if someone placed this rustic bench here for that reason or perhaps to remember someone who used to enjoy spending time here. What I love most is how it blends in.. how it was not originally a part of this family of trees and grasses, but it seems to belong here just the same.. and exists in harmony, for the benefit of those who are fortunate enough to encounter it.

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Sushi Lunch on the Niagara Parkway

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

We had pulled over to check out some uncommon species of ducks when I spotted this pair of gulls and crept over to see what was engaging them. I don't know how the fish entered the equation - whether it was freshly plucked from the river or discovered ashore - but it was pretty clear that the beak that carried it had no intention of sharing it. I did advance close enough to lay on the dock, and with my 300mm lens, secured myself plenty of whimsical photos. I also made sure that I occasionally paused to just observe the interaction. As it turns out, they weren't even fighting over the morsel... it was almost as if the gull in the back were standing guard as his companion took her time flipping it around and repositioning it without disruption. But this particular shot seems to be portraying furtive behaviour, and upon pondering it, I imagine the various possible statements the opportunistic gull might be uttering:

"I am going to enjoy this all on my own, thank you very much....."

"You keep watch as I divide this into two equally-sized portions.... yeah that's what I'm going to do...."

"Of course I'm going to let you have some... just hold on a moment..."

"Don't worry - I'm just going to lay it over here until we catch another one......"

A Gull from New York City patrolling one of the Staten Island Ferries

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

This is my city… mine. I get a free ride on this ferry whenever I want so I can chatter my lungs out at all the pretty gulls that hang out here. I get to fly solo to the top of the Empire State Building and look down at the rows of rooftops and trail of taillights as the sun grows weary from illuminating this energetic metropolis all day.

If I feel like perching on a bracket in front of the Coca-Cola display at One Times Square and bathe in all its warm, neon glory, then I am going to do it whether Newscorp likes it or not! I repeatedly and brazenly ignore orders like "No Standing", "No Trespassing", "Don't Honk" and other posted restrictions that this city's human inhabitants feel the need to impose on one another. I don't even have to concern myself with their preposterous threats...penalty schmenalty.

I get to feast on half-consumed big apples and discarded hot dog buns and capsized bags of popcorn in Central Park for as long as I want and then proceed to drop my duty into the Bethesda Fountain. And there's not a darn thing you can do about it!

Look at that magnificent skirt of skyscrapers that watches over these Staten Island Ferries as they pass one another day by day, hour by hour. I've flown over every single one of those towers and I know which ones have the best gardens erupting out of their soaring pillars of metal and concrete. Never mind the Grey Line trolley buses. You want to see New York City, stick with me. I'll show you New York City. This is my city.

Port Colborne, Ontario

 

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved                   

Children have no past and future. Thus they enjoy the present - which seldom happens to us.

- Jean De La Bruyere

I know it isn't summertime and I am therefore clashing with the season by posting this pic, but I am sure most of you viewing this are okay with being momentarily transported to warmer, lazier days. (Pause to feel the sultry sun caressing your cheeks.........)  I happen to love winter, and am also content with being on the brink of spring, so I'm not desperately longing for the mugginess of summer. I think in all honesty I was just in the mood to post a sweet picture of feet!

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and we were visiting the stunning botanical creation of a photographer friend of mine - the perfect summer destination for my two curious little men. They were enthralled by the flurry of minute pond creatures that must have been skimming right over their submerged fingers..... seeking out darting damselflies as they teasingly hovered over the aquatic vegetation. I love how children can truly enjoy the moment in which they are currently breathing... they care not about what time it is, fuss not about getting dirty, worry not about whether there are spiders potentially lurking between the planks below them. (All things that I would probably be contemplating were I in this position!!!)

When I look at this picture, I remember a relaxing afternoon spent beneath a gazebo, kicking back and catching up with my good friend.. it was just a great day! The weather was wonderfully warm, not too humid or breezy, and I was revelling in the notion that this was the only real requirement of my day. I was quite conscious of this fact: treating it as a fleeting escape from all of my responsibilities. The simple fact of being removed from my own domesticated environment meant that I was physically unable to combine pairs of sports socks or remove lunchtime's spaghetti sauce from my dishes...I could just sit and breathe and talk. And enjoy it.

But my kids weren't revelling or relaxing or thinking about any of these things at all.  They were lying at the water, smiling as minute pond creatures skimmed over their submerged fingers, seeking out darting damselflies as they hovered over the vegetation.

Along the beach at Conception Bay South, Newfoundland

I captured this one years ago, around the time that I started regularly wielding a single lens reflex and behaving like a wide-eyed eight year old kid in a frog-filled marsh. Nothing was (is!) pedestrian to me. I was enthralled with the abundance of little discoveries to capture on, at that time, film. Never mind functioning before the digital groove - I never limited myself when I was out with my camera, and shot whatever I knew I would enjoy viewing later!

It is always frigid at the beach in the winter, but on those rare days when the wind is sedated, you can sufficiently insulate yourself in a portable shelter of parkas and wool, enabling you to spend some quality time with the invigorating chilled air.

Having performed the above-mentioned layering ritual, I was enjoying the afternoon shooting ice glazed beach rocks, charismatic vanilla frosted wooden fences, and sugar-coated tree branches stretching out into the cerulean sky.

I didn't spy the critter that left behind this flurried evidence, nor did I attempt to coerce it into view; I simply kneeled down and took this picture. My favourite aspect of this image is not the tracks, however, it is the sparkle of the individual snow crystals, perched ever so delicately atop the more mature snow that had now fused into ground cover. It reminds me of quiet winter evenings growing up at home in Labrador, listening to the falling snowflakes, and reveling in the pure, glistening environment that instilled in me my love of all things winter.

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Stratford, Ontario in December

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

As we descend upon our placid aqueous avenue, we hear you complaining about the gelid wind as it brazenly slaps your cheeks and taunts your down-filled garmets into which you are desperately cocooned until the soft breath of springtime. Even on an afternoon such as this, refreshingly infused with invigorating air calmly hovering over a blanket of virgin snow, you are bothered.

We're not entirely sure that we understand this aversion to winter. Is this not the season that welcomes holiday camaraderie, lavish generosity, and lush displays of evergreens and holly? Is there something wrong with decelerated evenings spent surrounded by layers of quilted coverings and a like-minded individual?

Surely, there must be a few examples of your species who will unabashedly embrace this season for its exhilerating temperament and appreciate all of its bracing qualities. As a matter of fact, we see them, occasionally, meandering along the snow-crusted banks of our world, eagerly capturing photographs and exploring the nuances of our city as the evening rolls in. 

As for us, we revel in the changing of the seasons. Today, we're content to be flying over a pristine, uncluttered view enroute to our happy place, where we will congregate with some of our favourite winged creatures, as we do every evening.

Conception Bay South, Newfoundland

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I think that if I lived near the ocean, I would find resolution to the issues that sometimes occupy my mind. Really, just looking this photograph induces a sense of calm that encourages my thoughts to wander about aimlessly like driftwood..  (too often in my real world, they become stranded like this as well!!)

There is just something about sitting on this pebbled blanket, listening to the waves spread over the rocks, moistening them with a sheen that illuminates all of their smoothness, that lulls me into a sort of meditation. It's such a satisfying stimulation of the senses: the percussion of the rocks dancing against one another under the pull of the receding water and the the cadence of the seabirds as they spread their nautical gossip..... the therapeutic pressure of the stones underneath bare feet.....  the heady scent of the foamy salt water and swatches of seaweed....   spa day anyone??

Inniskillin Winery
Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario

Had I been aware of the charms that exist neatly tucked into your typical run-of-the-mill Niagara winery, I would have become a patron years ago!

Of course I am fully aware that there is no such thing as "typical" when it comes to the birthplace and residence of such a sophisticated passion as an estate's wine. They all have their own sultry nuances and historical flair, an eclectic indulgence that delights the eye as much as the palate.

It is almost too intimidating for me to write about, being a novice taster and all.

But hey.. it's my blog right?

So.. first of all, there is the beverage. That luscious, earthy, complex collaboration of flavours and sensory personalities that arouses your sense of smell and instigates revelry in your tastebuds. Thanks to enthusiastic winery tour guides, I am learning more and more about tasting techniques.. I now understand the benefit of swirling the wine in the glass before breathing it in before sipping it and swishing it around in your mouth before swallowing it... it's all about intensifying and recognising and savouring all the layers of flavour. Plus it's just plain fun!

And then there is the visual stimulation frequently in abundance at wineries.... lush parallel rows of green (or as is the case this time of year: yellow), rustic, etched wine barrels and gnarly, weathered vines. Upon arrival the eye is instantly greeted with a harmonious mix of the planned orderly and the naturally occuring.. eliciting deep satisfying breaths and long luxurious pauses that we may not permit ourselves to take during our daily routines... oh.. and I just "happen" to have had my camera with me...

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Dufferin Islands, Niagara Falls, Ontario
December 2009



© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved



Alright, all you summer-loving people. You've had your fun. You've had all kinds of time to indulge in your delightfully lazy book-reading marathons as you become a long, late afternoon shadow on your freshly cut back yard lawn..... your endless summer nights consuming your sugar laden daiquiris and your minty mojitos and your lime infused Coronas on your cottage deck as the mosquitos drool over your exposed skin and the spiders come out to play..... your long, gratifying weekend getaways on your Harleys and your Hondas buzzing up and down the quiet streets letting everyone know that you're in town.....

Okay, so perhaps I may be speaking a little harshly! I am really not the type of person to display cynicism and even less the type of person to discourage activities that make people smile and contribute to the masses in a content and satisfied manner. But as of this week, the book of seasons has once again turned a page and it's now Autumn!!

Now I'm not saying it's a bad thing to be reduced to a molten heap of uselessness as the air licks your skin and the sun cooks your body... but it's just not for everybody!! For example, I am the person emphatically flipping my calendar to the -embers with unbridled exuberance as I breathlessly wait for the refreshing waves of cooler air to wash over me and fill my lungs and my spirit with energy.

Of course, where I am, in Southern Ontario, I am still holding my breath for that and it's becoming a little trying to continue doing so. It still feels like summer. Granted, it's a more comforable summer, but its time has come. Enough is enough. I see all these comments from my Facebook friends who still reside past the eastern point of the weathervane who get to announce the signs of the arrival of fall, mostly with acceptance: the multi-hued leaves that crunch underfoot, the chilly morning air that induces wakefulness and allows you to don that great fall jacket, adding another element to the day's ensemble, and yes, even the promise of colder days as winter awaits its cue to emerge onto the stage. That's right, people, I said it: winter is just around the corner!!  Fresh crystal clean air with vibrantly blue, clear skies... rich hot cocoa and fragrant wood fireplaces, cozy blankets and textured sweaters, thick spicy soup simmering on the stove.... exhilerating skiing excursions and rejuvenating afternoon jaunts as the snow compresses underfoot and thin sheets of ice hover over puddles and ponds just waiting to be stepped on with a big satisfying crunch!!!

I am also not the type of person to wish away any of my days, but I AM excited to be on the verge of the full blown arrival of my favourite time of year! And I'm not afraid to proclaim it!!!!

An inhabitant of Jackson-Triggs Niagara Estate Winery

Niagara-on-the-Lake, ON

I enjoyed becoming a part of the Jackson-Triggs alumni this past weekend, on a refreshing afternoon, accompanied by desirable company. Our tour guide, Paul, was fantastic, his love of all things wine seeping into his words and their delivery. Obviously, we were just another cluster of wine lovers to be walked through the viticultural process of one of Niagara's most successful wineries, but one feels as though it is a exclusive peek into its inner workings, particularly upon our descent into the delightfully moody cellar. I'm positive that the wine tastes better down here!!!

I have always loved watching tidy rows of vines fllitting across my gaze whenever I tour Niagara wine country. (I'm certain that if you look up the word Niagara in some dictionaries, it will be defined as "wine country"!!) I've driven through some Niagara-on-the-Lake backroads around this time of year and have literally smelled the sweetness of the grapes in the air, virtually tasting it on my tongue. And the gnarled old grapevines that have been granted new life from having new limbs spliced onto their extremities (a fact that we learned from Paul!) always exude such character. As I watch them from the vehicle, while en route to nowhere in particular, I liken their existence to subjects in a flipbook, collaboratively dancing their obscure, quirky dance as my eyes jump from one twisted stalk to the next, each one exhibiting its own personality.

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved