Getting resettled

We saw a house today with a sign in front that said: "Resettled Bushies". Obviously a family -- with the same last name as the current US president -- which had been away from Newfoundland and has returned to stay. Also a reference to the forced resettlement of many Newfoundlanders in the 1960's at the whim of the government of the day.

Returning to one's roots is thrilling. I am still pinching myself when I regard the exquisite vistas along the road as we drive from place to place. Returning home is easy, for the most part. It just takes some readjustment.

For instance, yesterday while chatting with our neighbour, we discussed a tree in our back yard She called it something that sounded like Haps. Puzzled, I asked her to spell it.

It was her turn to look puzzled. "It spells the way I'm saying it," she said. Spelling is probably not her forte.

Haps? Hasp? Ah. Light bulb. Like many here, she adds "h" to words that begin with a vowel. "Aspen?" I asked. The transposition¹ of the last two consonants did not register with me until tonight.

"Yes," she said. "Haspen."

I have just looked it up. Aps is a good Newfoundland word for the aspen tree. It is a variant of Aspe² which is itself a good English word for the same tree. I feel I should apologize to my neighbour for having inadvertently corrected her. Many words here have remained unchanged from Old and Middle English. I should have known better.

From the Dictionary of Newfoundland English:
aps n also hapse, (h)apsen [phonetics unavailable]. EDD ~ sb s w cties. Trembling aspen (Populus tremuloides); also attrib.
1842 JUKES i, 160 The wood ... they here called the 'aps.' 1907 MILLAIS 86 On each side was dense forest of good-sized birch, white pine, 'haps' [etc]. T 50/2-64 You chop up bark off o' the trees—white spruce or apse; apse was good bark. An' you dry that on a flake or a wharf. T 203/5-65 An' then you'd get those apses; you'd cut two an' you wire 'em together an' the dead stick in the centre. That's what you'd tie your trap to. 1966 FARIS 240 Apsen (aspen) ... [used for] planking for boats. C 70-21 Christ's cross was made from an aspen (hapse) and that's why the leaves always tremble. P 148-72 No woman wants it for firewood because 'aps wood is full of water.'

I've been away too long.

Tonight someone mentioned his cousin's name. "Bice," he said.

"Bice?" I replied, looking puzzled, and able to think only of Bo Bice who competed on American Idol this past winter.

"Bice," he repeated. It didn't help that there was a downpour hitting the metal roof of the lobster pool shed, making conversation of any kind difficult.

"Bice." I said again, more to myself than to him. "Bice. Sorry, I'm not familiar with that name."

"B-o-y-c-e," he explained, spelling it rather quickly.

"Ah, Boyce", I said, feeling both relieved and foolish.

"Yes, Bice." He smiled.

And so it goes.

¹Reminds me of the way the word "ask" is pronounced in some places, Barbados among them. "Aks" is the common prononciation, rhyming with "axe". Can throw you for a loop at first, especially if someone says "let me aks you."

² Thus Gerard says of it:--"In English Aspe and Aspen-tree, and may also be called Tremble, after the French name, considering it is the matter whereof women's tongues were made.... (http://www.2020site.org/trees/aspen.html)

Bliss on a Rock

Bliss on a Rock. Sounds like a drink. Isn't. It's just me being happy in Newfoundland.

We're still pinching ourselves that we're lucky enough to be living here, albeit for only a few months. But then, maybe that's why we're so lucky. We get to enjoy Newfoundland at its finest (in summer) and retreat to our cave in Ontario while everyone here does battle with winter. Some might say that you can't fully appreciate summer unless you've endured the winter. Perhaps. But if I appreciated it any more than I do right now, my face would split from grinning.

I had hoped to write while I was here. However, I doubt if the current novel will get finished or any new novel will be conceived. I'm just too excited to sit still to write anything of any length. Heck, just hanging clothes on the line keeps me blissed out for hours. And I'm dying to go blueberry picking in August.

Blogging will have to suffice. So watch this space.