Bacon & Eggs
These days, I have two fridges and a stand-alone freezer. All full. No vodka. And one of my favourite pastimes? Preparing meals for friends. It’s a fitting metaphor for just how radically my life has changed in the past ten years.Now, it takes a couple of minutes to get from my home to my shop in Bridgetown. No jet lag. No elite airline status. No carry-on packing strategy required.
Carrie, my hairstylist, has her salon right next door to my shop. I was in her chair recently, mid-foils, when I mentioned I needed eggs. “I’ll finish your foils and run home to get you a dozen,” she said—and she did. She and her partner John have a “start-up” farm. (They started with two pigs aptly named Sausage and Bacon) They’re also Tallulah Freelove's. landlord - John and Carrie, not Sausage and Bacon, To be clear.
While I sat in Carrie’s chair with the door open to the summer air, my friend Caroline (of Wools on the Corner) walked by. I shouted hello and she came in and kept me company until Carrie returned. Later that afternoon, Bob—another business neighbour, from Albert & Middle—dropped by with a pound of home-cured bacon.
I’ve been thinking about that day. About how easily lives intertwine in a small town. How community isn’t just a concept here—it’s a living, breathing thing. It’s in the generous donations to get the local museum back on its feet (The James House—donations welcome!). It’s in the legion of volunteers who make sure special events run smoothly, who hang the banners and plant the flowers. And sometimes, it’s in the simple things: like someone showing up with bacon and eggs.
Montreal will always be my city, and I loved my years there. But today, I love my life here in rural Nova Scotia, in Bridgetown. I love my little shop and the many lovely people I’ve met because of it.
So if you’re looking for me, you’ll find me happy and content in Bridgetown, Nova Scotia—just west of Paradise in the Annapolis Valley.
(Not to be confused with West Paradise. That’s across the river.
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