Random Posts
The BookmobileAs long as I can remember I’ve loved to read. I can remember reading Hardy Boy books way back when they were almost as big as...
Clarenville DayIts been too damn hot to sit in front of the computer and write anything lately. Thankfully its cooled down a bit the last couple days....
Settlements of the PastJust a short post to followup on my mention of the cemetery at the brickyard in Snook’s Harbour. Years and years ago it appears there was...
The Granite Grid
- First Watts July 15, 2026It takes a lot of back and forths and note-taking before you finally pull the trigger on an off-grid power setup. As we look at clearing a small patch of the land we have over on Random Island, I’ve been trying to keep things simple. Whether we stay in a trailer for the seasonal phases, […]Peter Smith
- A Turn Around the Rock July 12, 2026My cousin, Bernie, recently took a walk across the land and sent over a video of the tour. Watching it here from my room in Nova Scotia, it felt like I was right there pushing through the branches. The land is thick and stubborn, filled with young birch and aspen, heavy fir, and spruce growing […]Peter Smith
- Four Suits and a Cabin July 12, 2026When you are planning an off-grid shelter, it is easy to get caught up in the big builds. We spend hours researching solar panels, charge controllers, and waterless toilets. But when the rain starts lashing against the cabin window and the Atlantic fog rolls in thick off the sound, you realize that the most valuable […]Peter Smith
- Fish Bacon on the Beach July 10, 2026Every year, right around late June or early July, the damp, foggy weather rolls in off Trinity Bay. Around home, we call it caplin weather. It’s the time when millions of small, silver fish teem close to the shore, rolling onto the gravel beaches to spawn. As a boy growing up on Random Island, the […]Peter Smith
- Before It Fades July 7, 2026Sometimes, sitting here in Nova Scotia, my mind wanders back across the Cabot Strait to Random Island. I remember walking past the small, weathered one-room schoolhouses and the quiet rural churches that dot the harbour roads. I never actually went to school in them, mind you—by my day, they had become community halls—but we spent […]Peter Smith
