Moosehead, Nova Scotia
By Carrie Jacobson
Oil on deep canvas, 11x14
By Heather MacLeod
Watercolor on Arches paper, 12x18
It had been a long day of driving in Nova Scotia. We had left Cape Breton, and we were clearly leaving Nova Scotia and going on our way home, and I was sad. I fall in love easily, I do, and I was in love with Maritime Canada and I did not want to leave.
The ease of my passion has nothing to do with its depth. I will be in love with Maritime Canada for the rest of my life. If I have the chance to go again, I will go. If I have the chance to live there, I will move. And whenever I can think about the places and the people, or make a painting from a photograph I took, I will. Neither time nor distance will change that.
Maybe that's one of the reasons I am so attracted to land and to landscapes. People leave, friendships wax and wane, lovers forget and are forgotten, but the beauty of a landscape does not change.
Yes, I know, it does - in the particulars. But the grandeur of the light, the tracing of the line where the sky meets the land, the noise that the waves make when they hit the beach, these things do not change. Will not change in my lifetime.
Here, in Nova Scotia, at the edge of the Atlantic, Heather and I painted. The tide rose, the sun edged down, the day cooled. People came to the beach and left. People went out in boats and fished and came back in to shore. Birds soared and called and landed, and the shadows lengthened.
My sadness lifted as I painted, and in its place came memory, and vision and, of course, this painting.