Fifty years ago my husband built a cabin on the coast of New Brunswick, Canada.  We summer there.  The sun powers our lights and we rely on a stream or rain water for bathing.  A fire in the wood stove takes off the chill on cold mornings.  With the windows wide open, a privy in the woods, and showers on the high front deck, we are outside more than in.  How different from our life at home in a house!

When there I wander daily the small, rural community - to the lighthouse point, down side roads, around the working fishing harbor.  There is so much land, so many trees, so few people.  Situated where the Passamaquoddy Bay meets the Bay of Fundy, the low and high tides are dramatic.  The shore line is rocky and rugged.  Wild flowers abound and blueberries fill our front yard.  There are spruce trees, fir, pines, birch and poplars.  The ground is covered with lush carpets of moss, ferns and grasses.  Crows, juncos, grouse and woodpeckers fill the woods, seabirds and seals roam the coast.  The air is maritime, often foggy followed by sun and billowy clouds.  The fog horn blows hauntingly in the background.

These images are my love letter to this place.