Howler

The predicted snow blew past us and landed in Newfoundland. For Nova Scotia, the operative word is “blow.” The ferries ran late after midday, and the one I caught at 5 took a couple of minutes to position itself on the waves before docking on the Halifax side.


There’s a particular corner in downtown where the siting of a relatively new and tall building seems to be at odds with prevailing wind currents. Even on the gentlest of days, the southeast corner of Salter and Barrington is a wind tunnel. I’d received another package of books from home and had debated whether to trundle it whole from office to apartment, but am glad I had it along on the walk past this point! The wind was so severe that I found myself alternately pinned and propelled by it, a paper doll in the breath of the weather. The books proved to be ballast enough to get me to Government House and then further south where the wind merely was blowing, rather than raging.


To say that I am getting excited about my impending trip to Berkeley would be an understatement. We’re going to the Marina on Sunday, a place that usually has its own share of wind, but I don’t imagine it will be in competition with what’s here today.

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