Here on McNutt's Island the weekend is passing uneventfully. Skipper brought Michelle and Chris out with toddler Autumn and her adorable big sister Susannah for an overnight. Dylan and Devon completed the group. The boys drove about in Dylan's new vehicle, and there was rowing, gill net setting, lamb watching and barbequeing down at that end of the cove. I believe the McNutt's Market was also briefly open for business, though by the time I went by it was closed again.
Life has been quiet in our part of the cove, except for the racket made by toads, white throated sparrows and squabbling robins. Such a din sometimes! Greg is working on his Chariot, a wagon-like contraption for pulling visitors behind the ATV. I am nursing the seedlings along inside the greenhouse, and preparing the beds in the garden. The weekend has been beyond gorgeous. I have heard rumours of gull chicks and baby lambs, but haven't yet seen any with my own eyes.
From the perspective of the Victorians, Nova Scotia was an outermost hinterland of the empire, a vague obscure place where people sometimes went to make a fresh start or avoid further trouble. From the perspective of the islanders, I imagine, Victoria herself was a vague presence off somewhere far away, unlikely to take notice of them or to interfere with their daily lives. I don't imagine the queen's birthday was ever much celebrated here.