The Property Across the Road

So, I’ve been spending a lot of time across the road, so to speak.

Our friend and neighbour in Toronto bought the most incredible property very close to ours on PEI. It’s nearly three acres, and this summer, I helped him plant over forty trees on it, including several emerald cedars, a few little fruit trees, some lilac bushes, a magnificent, tall willow, some blue spruces, and several other soft and hardwood trees.

He’s been Airbnb-ing it out to campers (as well as letting people stay in the small, rustic star gazing cabin) at a very low cost to cyclists and other shoestring travelers, and more recently, he also hosted a little couch surfing.

When I’m not in Ch’town or at our place across the road, I’ve been sleeping in a little tent behind the larger of his two cabins.

It’s such a delight to wake up to birds chirping in the small forest just outside my “door”, and to watch our dog romping through his fields...

In consultation with him, our friend has allowed me to develop a pastoral wonderland near the ocean.

Although his main building with a proper kitchen, bathroom and second floor deck overlooking the dunes won’t be ready until sometime this fall or early next spring, there are already a few very cool things happening here: In addition to the cabin where he is currently sleeping and which will eventually become my music cabin (further away from my original cabin across the road, so I don’t won’t bother the neighbours when I’m drumming, LOL!), our friend has also got a little 8 x 8 bunkie with a skylight built in, for stargazing.

And, because his main building wasn’t ready this summer, I arranged for the erection of a small shed and a large mosquito tent for him on the front of the property, so that he could sit out at night or in the early morning without being eaten alive by the mosquitoes which are unfortunately ubiquitous in this neck of the woods.

One of my favourite parts of the property is the solar shelter. It’s a small structure with a counter which serves as an outdoor kitchen of sorts. A camping shower hangs from a hook, and an old oil barrel turned upside down serves as stand up table. A solar panel on the roof allows one to charge one’s phone and/or (sometimes “or”, if it’s been an overcast day!) boil a kettle of water for tea.

We’ve met such interesting people on this journey, from the Kijiji guy who built the fire pit (and did about a million other odd jobs over the course of two days before our friend arrived this summer), to the polite and oh-so-accommodating father and his sons who cut the grass, to the fellow who built a creative cooler bench to keep milk, water and beer cold in the temporary absence of a proper fridge, to the environmentalist who enlisted his friend to help him build the aforementioned solar shelter.... islanders and CFAs alike, who have made PEI their home.

And then, there are the guests. Tonight, we have three groups of campers who have found their way to this little heaven on earth: Two French girls (both of them teachers, and one of whom immediately set up her mosquito-net-enclosed hammock and decided to sleep there for the night), an adventurous family from New Brunswick with a very cute four-year-old and a baby, and a couple from Halifax who, shortly after setting up their tent, took off to enjoy the sunset up a nearby at lighthouse Beach!)

After two weeks almost non-stop running around helping to get things set up, I find myself on the property with a few hours of downtime before bed, gazing into the embers of a fire on which I cooked dinner earlier, on a beautiful PEI evening.

While one couple was out enjoying the sunset and the others were off buying ice, I delivered goodie baskets to their tents (granola bars, fruit and tea), and put some solar light stakes near the entrance of their tent to provide a pleasant (and hopefully useful) surprise when they returned home in the dark.

Earlier, I had welcomed them with fresh strawberries and a giant mason jar of ice cold lemon water.

I tremendously enjoy engaging in this sort of hospitality, especially for people who are not paying much (or, in the case of couch surfing, anything at all), and I wish I had the means to be able to do this sort of thing full-time. It reminds me of the summer before my mother died, after I came back from working at a hotel in southern Bavaria — I had learned the art of hospitality, which I applied, as a 20-year-old, to my mother’s many visitors in the garden behind our house where she lay on a lawn chair that August, discovering new parts of her soul while waiting for the inevitable autumn and winter of her now cancer-sentenced life.

Perhaps at the time just a tactic to distract myself and keep busy, I look back on those acts of service now with a new appreciation. The ice coffees I whipped up and served for my mother and her sick-guests while wearing the traditional dirndl I had bought while in Bavaria brought a little sunshine and pride into our somewhat “heavy” garden that summer, and that light and sense of competence spilled over into my soul. Similarly, the flitting around this summer looking after details that delight and surprise those who visit this place fills my heart with joy.

I feel very lucky that I get to participate in these acts of service this summer, at least, in this tremendously tranquil space.

Earlier this evening, I spied a little frog by the woodpile. And just now as I sat by the fire, a big fat owl flew overhead and perched in a tree at the edge of the property.

These magical sightings only add to the wonder of this special place.

​I wish I could stay here forever!