Midway through a week of teaching a course on fish health and on the way back to my hotel room to prep for Thursday I passed a little heritage village along the road into Parksville. I probably wouldn’t have stopped if not for a little white church that reminded me of the church in Canoe, across from. my grandparent’s post-farm-retirement house. My Granny played the organ and managed the church choir and living directly across the road from it suited her just fine.
The church isn’t exactly like the one in Canoe, this one has a steeple, and the one in Canoes is even more simple than the one in the Parksville heritage museum, but otherwise….very similar.
I wandered around the little circle of buildings….the blacksmith, a couple of log cabins….a fabulous old water pump painted red.
Sidebar…I hate AI predictive text…three times I typed “old” and three times predictive text and autocorrect changed “old” to “olfactory”…..my computer has definitely been monitoring what I’ve been teaching!
Walking past these little cabins made me realize that I think I could slip into being a hermit in some cabin on top of some mountain with some relative measure of ease.
