Tangled Garden

Halifax International Airport

It’s 6:05 pm - five hours before I have to board my flight to London.

I drove my rental car around as much as I could to fill in time today,
.

but in the end decided to return it ........ and hang out at the airport. I had the GPS on for company, like a slightly obsessive companion wanting to catch a flight and telling me in a good-humoured but insistent manner how to get back to the airport at every turn. I deviated in various interesting directions. Even following road signs, I ended up in a field of corn; when the grass on the track was more prominent than the track, I decided it was time to do a twelve-point turn.

Dairy farms, red barns, muscley beef cattle grazing, white plastic shrouded round bales like so many fat peppermints, and a surprising cafe on a deserted elbow.

I stopped at a lovely spot called the Tangled Garden.............................................................Self portrait in a garden


Wicker edging to the kitchen gardens


reminded me of the same woven edging surrounding hidden herb gardens in a monastary in southern France which I visited last year with my niece.



So, farewell to Canada, and onwards I venture. The big question: Will security let my almost empty toothpaste tube through?