Following Amelia

Me and my girl, Amelia.
Me and my girl, Amelia.

I am in Newfoundland doing research for what will one day be a book. Yesterday, I stood on the airstrip Amelia Earhart flew from when she flew solo across the Atlantic. I’ve wandered down the (stunning!) coast to Trepassey and climbed a lighthouse and looked out over the thin, long harbour that housed Amelia’s first trans-Atlantic plane when they got fogged in for weeks on end, and driven up to Harbour Grace where I watched a VHS tape of her moments before her solo flight. I get goosebumps thinking about it.

The Trepassey Area Museum.
The Trepassey Area Museum.

Currently, I’m perched on the top floor of a beautiful St. John’s home, surrounded by thousands of books (that’s what happens when a poet and a writer/publisher get hitched!), writing and writing, and picking my jaw up off the ground every now and then at the generousity and kindness of the folks around here.

A huge and enormous thank you to Access Copyright Foundation for the generous grant that allowed me to be here.

St. John's. I love this place.
St. John’s. I love this place.

 

In St. John's.
In St. John’s.

 

A picnic along the East Coast Trail near Bay Bulls.
A picnic along the East Coast Trail near Bay Bulls.

 

A post-airstrip picnic in Salmon Cove.
A post-airstrip picnic in Salmon Cove.

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