copyright G.L MacMillan
Eau de Newfoundland
Stanley keeps tiny bottles of water from everywhere he’s visited, but he only ever opens one. He collected it on the beach in Griquet, Newfoundland. Smelling the salt water brings him back to that wild land of rock and trees, where moose roam and majestic icebergs float silently by the shore.
It’s not the nature he misses though. He left her there somewhere, that sandy-haired Newfie beauty he met by chance inside a Viking hut.
He keeps opening the bottle because if he listens closely, he can almost hear her, like the voice of an outport angel.
“Whaddya at, b’y?”
I feel this story needs some explanation for those who have never been to Newfoundland. I grew up there and although I have not been back in many years, it will always be home to me in many ways. So, for the curious, bored, or otherwise inclined, here are some links to peruse.
The Green-Walled Tower 