On Seasons
Anne P. MacDonald Spring, sprinting over hill and valley, streams filling, water surging everywhere - snowdrops showing their tiny faces, swallows coming back. Spring shattering our icy winter hibernation and soliciting us to follow in paths of her new greenery, her new life building everywhere, and we echo Spring in her praise and thanksgiving for new life and the joys of being alive!Summer seldom comes suddenly, she just slowly shows her face and calls us to be freer, sunbathing, swimming at the shore, street dancing, sideshows, starlit evenings, sleepy days, sun seeping through the haze. Hot time, hay time - Oh! The joys of summer! Fair is Fall, when she comes laden down with vibrant colours, filling our larders with her bountiful fruits of the fields. She is lovely, Autumn, all she gives so softly and silently. Take a walk through her leaf-laden forests and smell the crisp, cool air - she's there; embrace her! Winter wanders in and wakes us with chilly wisps of air coming from the North. Now we wait for a carpet of snow and wade through it - wallowing in the whims of Winter.  - Anne Patricia MacDonald, was born in Souris. She is a homemaker and resides in North Lake.
The North Shore of Home
Frank A. LedwellBarren capes
bravely presuming their way
out to open sea
at MacIntyre's Cove
Naufrage and Sutherland's Landing.
Places passed over
even by detailed maps,
but places nevertheless,
though serving perhaps no other purpose
than to provide sheltered havens
for in-shore fishing boats.
Capes unseeded and plowed,
left to shore-borne crows
nesting next door to amphibious sea gulls
in ceaseless
peaceful coexistence.Capes,
sea-wall strewn
with windrowed driftwood,
salt-cured, rakish abstractions,
heightened in their natural setting. Barren capes?
No, not really.
Cranberries and bayberries
grow there . . .
and mushrooms in season. And after stormy days
when frenzied seas
have simmered down to gradual swells,
when their shoals are banked with Irish Moss,
the men come down
to reap the new harvest
wrenched from the sea-floor by angry waters.
And these men that come
are greeted by the gulls and crows
as co-sharers of their things.
The men too are salt-cured and rakish,
and are passed over by detailed humanity.
And later
the women and children come down
to gather in the cranberries and bayberries
and mushrooms in season. - Frank A. Ledwell was born
in St. Peter's Bay. His father was
born on the Souris Line Road.
He is a professor emeritus at the
University of Prince Edward Island.
In the fall of 2004, he was named Poet
Laureate of P.E.I. He resided in
Springvale, P.E.I. Professor Ledwell
passed away in 2008. 
|  Among Wild Apples
Hugh MacDonald My apple coloured island
is spring quilted
blossom studded hedgerows
edge checkerboard fields
This chill winter day
I dream autumn strolls
along abandoned rails
among tumble-down farms
where ten million lost trees
drop tithes to ruffed grouse gods
lend sweet perfume
to frosty air. - Hugh MacDonald was born in
Charlottetown. He has many relatives
in the Souris area. He taught in Souris
Regional High School from 1994 until his
retirement in 1999. He is a published poet
and author and resides in Brudenell.
He was named Poet Laureate of P.E.I.
in 2009 Water IV Waldron H. LeardSoaks the sails
Rusts the rails
Wets the bales
Tears in the veilsA soothing spring rain
Jack Frost on the pane
Steam for the train
Moisture in the grain Blue cove
Green grove - Waldron H. Leard, was born
in Souris. He is a historian, freelance
writer and storyteller. He resides
in Kingsboro.
|
Fountain Head
Lori Cheverie Prince Edward Island is obviously a beautiful place. This is, in part, the reason it is so close to the hearts of those of us who call it home, and a huge part of why so many people flock to it each year to enjoy it with us. The fact that it is so beautiful as a whole can make it easy for people to dub many obvious places "the most beautiful place on the Island," but in my opinion, to find the real winner you must wander off the beaten path and into "the sticks". There, down the winding dirt road north of the Tarentum road and through the ditch is the place which truly deserves the title.Beginning when I was a very young child, some of my favourite Sunday afternoons were when my father would load my sister and me into the truck and head for Fountain Head.  | When the truck would stop, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, we would immediately jump out and race across the dusty dirt road and up onto the bank of the ditch. From the top we could finally see what we were coming to visit. Over ten feet down was the spring, the beginnings of North Lake, completely hidden from drivers passing by. We would carefully make our way down the steep dirt slope and out onto the small wooden "dock", made of an old board across a fallen tree. We would instinctively reach for the old coffee mug, tied to a neighbouring tree, eager to take a sip of the freezing and refreshing water. Relaxing there, we could watch the water bubble up from the bottom of the spring before being carried out, through a tiny little stream, to North Lake. We'd walk around the spring, inspecting it, jumping tree roots and stopping every now and again to stick in a hand or a foot, seeing who could bear the freezing temperatures the longest. |
Memories or not, anyone lucky enough to come across Fountain Head would be able to appreciate its beauty. It is hidden from everyone in its own little valley. Old trees covered in bright green moss, the rickety, yet quaint make-shift dock, the old coffee mug and the bubbling water all unit to turn this spring into a secret place like one you would come across in a children's book. It is so serene and untouched. The air smells fresh and everything seems a little more peaceful at Fountain Head. Fountain Head had slipped from my memory - it had been so long since my last visit. The memories came flooding back. Fountain Head jumped to mind as the most beautiful place on the Island. I had almost forgotten how much I love it there. I'm incredibly glad I had the opportunity to go back and see it again. - Lori Cheverie is a native of Prince Edward Island. She is a resident of Souris West, and a university student.
Copyright
Waldron H. Leard |
