i left my (potato) heart on Prince Edward Island, (part two,

[see part one here] 

Wednesday, August 19, 2026: You might not be aware that our wee Aoife has been months begging us to take her to The Canadian Potato Museum (please, she begged us last fall, you can make it my birthday present). How did she even know of such a thing? It was more than an hour west and north from where we were staying, so made our way out before most of us were even awake (okay, before I was even awake--Christine and the young ladies had already done a morning walk to the coffeeshop for coffee, treats etcetera). 

Exactly what one might expect, one can walk through the space and learn a history of the potato and local potato crop [comparable to the Big Apple along Highway 401 by Colborne, Ontario, of course, except without the added benefit of the array contained within a giant potato], as well as farming. One whole wing was filled with farm machinery, much of which included signage on usage, and prior ownership. It seemed entirely the sort of museum I could see my father quite enjoying (and there were even the occasional antiquated item in the shed that I know we had). The young ladies collected (of course) potato-shaped stuffies, and I saw a stress-ball shaped like a potato, exactly like the ones we saw (and picked up) at EPIC: The Irish Emigration Museum in Dublin last summer [see my note on such here, including a pic of Aoife holding up said potato]. After all that build-up, Aoife reported that she was impressed, I guess, although it could have been better. What had she been expecting, exactly?

From there, we wandered over to a house made out of thousands of bottles that Christine knew about, with accompanying gardens. The space was lovely (both the buildings and the grounds/gardens were worth it alone), and odd to think a gentleman spent years of his life building such a thing, a series of structures that required repair after he'd passed (it is fully maintained; and with a charming wee gift shop to boot). It was misty, also. One could see out to the water, various lighthouses in view; the trailers at the edge of the property where some had settled into their own waterfront views, staring south-west towards New Brunswick (and just inland, Moncton).

I did manage another panorama shot or two with multiple Aoifes, which was fun to play with.

Rose buses, and many bees. In a way, the best part of this space had to be the abandoned house next door, just across from the parking lot, with a large stuffed animal on each side, set in the open window. Creepy.

As usual, there was too much to do, too much to see, so we were off again, back the way we'd come, to meet up with Ottawa poet Jason Christie and his family, who were on the island just as we were. Did I mention Jason was here also? I'd sent him a text before we'd flown out, asking if I'd see him at my event in Ottawa on the weekend, and he'd responded, saying, No, we've just crossed Confederation Bridge! Hey, we're doing that in two days! I responded. We drove, and drove, realizing we had missed out on an attempt at lunch (we'd considered as part of the potato museum, but the in-house diner wasn't open yet), so we kept hoping we'd simply pass something, knowing we had a loosely-scheduled 2pm meet up with Jason etc at Green Gables, right by where we were each and all staying. Not far from there, we drove into the parking lot of the Cavendish Boardwalk, for the sake of landing at Cows. I mean, there must be food here, yes? Once there, the kids went in one direction, Christine another, and I bee-lined to Cows for the sake of a new beach towel (I still had my worn towel from a much earlier PEI visit, possibly with my parents, somewhere during the 1980s; I'm a bit amazed the beach towel holds). A towel, a sticker or two, and a t-shirt, which I promptly changed into, just in the parking lot (why not?). The children purchased more stuffys for some reason (geez), but we did manage to convince them to remain still long enough to get them fed. If only we'd had more time, we would have told them about the Cows ice cream (we hadn't time, so didn't mention; perhaps we should come back at some point).

Green Gables, Prince Edward Island. I think this is my third time visiting? First, with my parents, somewhere in the late 1970s or early 80s, and again circa 2000 with my pal Sandie [a trip that resulted in my poetry title, red earth], and now this. It was different than I'd remembered, although I know I saw a wedding when I was last here, the space crowded with Japanese tourists. Given the broad popularity the books have in Japan and Japanese culture. The site really needs to perpetually thank Japanese novelist and translator Hanako Muraoka, who took it upon herself to translate that first Anne of Green Gables novel during a period that Japan considered English an "enemy language," publishing her translation in 1952. You want to see the impact of translation? Look to some of the tourism that regularly visits Green Gables.

This is a heritage house, basically, from the era from which L.M. Montgomery wrote those infamous books, of course, with accompanying texts surrounding the author and some of her characters. We met up with Jason and his family (his two boys are roughly the age of our two young ladies), and all four of the kids absolutely bored with the place. The children wandered, and wandered, albeit in different directions than we did. We paused for a bit of social, and the children had snacks. From there, a slip back into our separate directions, us back to North Rustico, and at least a few minutes not moving.

I hadn't realized until this trip the array of Acadian across Prince Edward Island, the array of Acadian flags that ran through this part of the island, specifically. There's a statue of an Acadian fisherman in the water, not far from our doorstep, to acknowledge both the cultural heritage of the space and the men who have, for generations, fished these waters. Right by our doorstep, also, a place where one can take a ride along for deep sea fishing. Not me, thanks, but it does sound interesting. A wall of lobster traps along one whole side of set buildings along the boardwalk.

After a respite of an hour or so, we collected some supplies and headed off the fifteen minute drive to where Jason and family were staying, an array of cottages closer to Green Gables, for the sake of dinner, socializing. It probably had been two years since the kids had seen each other, the past number of months Jason and I out for dinner maybe two or three times a year, but the array of household requirements and child schedules preventing us from doing anything beyond that.

It took a while for our children to talk to each other, but they figured it out. We hung out on the porch, right across from Grandpa's Antique Photo Studio (which Jason joked we should do, until he realized how much). A grand evening, overall, although the children remained a few fire-pits over, at what they termed "the good fire," beyond the one that Jason built.

next up: we head for a ferry, and back to Halifax,