Continuing on the whole fake farm theme, the ones that make me giggle the most are those that don’t try very hard in the ambience department. When my friend Elizabeth and I went to PEI together, our whole trip was centered around our childhood (and adult!) love of Anne of Green Gables. But even we… More
I really should have a bumper sticker that says something like “I brake for tiny fishing villages.” I know I’m not the only one, either. I figured Blue Rocks would be another Peggys Cove in terms of number of fellow tourists—but I was so happy to be mistaken. That morning, at least, it was just… More
Usually when I travel, I’m hurrying around everywhere, frantically sketching as many things as humanly possible (since I often travel alone, I can get away with this!). But when I travel with a friend, sometimes it’s nice to just sit for a spell and capture the moment. Because for me, that’s the best thing about… More
I’m sure this place is just crawling with tourists in the summer, but on the October evening I was there, it was just me, my sketchbook, and a nice slice of history.
I live in a place where umbrellas are pretty much never used for sun-related purposes. So whenever I get to see a parasol in use elsewhere, it gives me all kinds of summer cheer—because the reason for using the parasol in the first place is my favorite thing about the season.
After seeing this, I would like to propose a requirement that all utilitarian equipment and vehicles also be hilarious.
Now, Texas might be home to an outlandish vehicle or two, it’s true, but at least it was in keeping with the whole Texas theme. In Nova Scotia’s fishing villages, you’re more likely to see boats “parked” behind houses than cars. Since it took me three times as long to drive to this spot as… More
Just in case Paul Bunyan is looking to trade up… I think I found just the thing.
My French isn’t anything to write home about, I’ll admit. But at this moment, it didn’t matter, because there are some things that transcend language barriers.
When I lived in Minnesota, people used to tell me hair-raising stories of going fishing “Up Nort’” for muskellunge, and catching specimens that measured in feet, rather than inches. It’s no surprise the muskie is the stuff of legends—but imagine my delight when, without even stepping foot in a boat, the Tailor and I “caught”… More