Sunday, 15 April 2012

Born and Bred

Newfoundland. I love Newfoundland. I am proud to be a Newfoundlander. I fly the republic flag.
I have the pink, white and green tattooed forever on my skin. Whatever the flag means to anyone else it means many things to me.
It means tromping through the woods and having a boil up. It means flipper pie and seal skins. It means nor'easters and trigger mitts. It means giving Greenpeace and PETA and Harper the stink eye. It means finding bits of the rock wherever you go.
It means salt fish and rocky beaches and foggy summer days. It means berry picking and stouts and losing your boots in the bog. It means singing We'll Rant and We'll Roar at the top of your lungs.
It means Rick Mercer and 22 Minutes and the Babylon Mall. It means Buddy Wasisname. Great Big Sea and fiddles and squeeze boxes. Drums and jigs and festivals in the park.
It means a nod and a wink. A wave to the passerby. It means you belong to this place. It means you have a history. It means hayches h'are lost h'and found. It means Land and Sea.
It means seagulls and turrs. A lop on the pond up at the cabin. It means icebergs and rolling capelin. It means Newfoundland ponies and St. Jacques sheep.
That's my off the cuff ramble for this morning in between the whiles.

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