Sketching the striped tulip fields last week reminded me of one of my other favorite colorful places: the Plateau neighborhood of Montreal. The rows of colorful balconies and porches might not be quite as vivid as the rainbow houses of San Francisco… but any city that breaks up endless blocks of brick with pops of bright color is going to get an A+ in my book.
Other times, I do the opposite of what I showed you last time: I skip the color entirely, and focus purely on the line. I wish I could tell you that the reason for it this time was for some lofty, arty purpose…but, uh, no. I skipped the paint this time because I was hungry, and my lunch was getting cold.
(I think I made the right choice. That was a darn fine lunch!)
I don’t know if it’s the shape I’m attracted to, or merely the fact that I drink a ridiculous amount of tea every day, but I’m beginning to realize that within my pile of sketches I have quite a collection of teapots. So here for your viewing pleasure…is a collection of teapots.
It seems appropriate to drink Chinese tea at the start of the lunar new year—so imagine me raising my cup to you, in wishing you a happy weekend.
Tomorrow marks the beginning of the Year of the Sheep—whether you’re in Chinatown or your hometown, wishing you a happy lunar new year!
Now this is a house in its own little world. This tidy little cottage was part of a pair of villages located at the northernmost tip of Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia—which for all intents and purposes made it almost the last little house on the whole continent.
Somehow, though, it didn’t feel lonely. It felt like a refuge—especially considering how many hours of driving it took me to get there that day. You have no idea how badly I wanted to just knock on the door and come in out of the salt air.
This might just be my favorite building in all of Victoria—and not just just because of the architecture. What I love best about the old custom house is how it sits apart from its neighbors, neither bounded completely by streets or by water. The building is in the absolute heart of the city, yet somehow in its own little world.
I can never seem to get enough of this season—I love being surrounded by my favorite color, my favorite weather, my favorite flavors. I’m glad there are places like this this little bakery in Nova Scotia, where you can go have a cup of tea surrounded by reminders of autumn in every direction. Otherwise, I’d probably end up going nuts with the fall decorating at home, and ending up buried alive in decorative gourds.
I probably should have done with it and just go live in a pumpkin patch.
Oh, the fates were cruel to me this day. I happened to pass through a town that shared my last name, and in that town I stumbled upon a giant fiberglass potato. In front of a potato museum.
Which had closed an hour before.
Now, really. That’s just not fair.
Wawa is the Ojibwe word for “wild goose”—a fact the town of Wawa, Ontario would prefer you didn’t forget.
And just to make sure the lesson hits home, there is a veritable flock of giant geese waiting to welcome you.
I just hope these guys don’t get the notion to fly south for the winter—then we’ll be in trouble.
If you’re looking to do a Canadian Stereotypes tour of the Trans-Canada Highway, you’ll be happy to learn there’s no shortage of moose statues, Tim Horton’s or poutine shacks along the way.
Shocker, I know.