My mum and younger sister took a trip to the east coast recently and got back in time for us to celebrate my mum’s birthday (which is today. We got her an orchid which she had apparently ‘always wanted’ so good going, Amy, for picking that out).  They had a really good time meeting some of our family.  Most of both of mum’s parents’ families still live out that way.

When they were in Charlottetown (capital of Prince Edward Island, one of our provinces for you Yanks), they saw a sign for a glass shop called Happy Glass run by one BJ Sandiford.  We have a fairly uncommon last name so they decided to have a look.  They introduced themselves and it turned into a bit of a family reunion despite the fact that we’re pretty sure there isn’t a closer relation than the last 6 generations or so.  They brought back a necklace and bracelet for Amy, my other sister and my grandmother.  My brother-in-law, other sister’s boyfriend and I got potato seasoning (which I promptly forgot there due to being the best son ever) because PEI is basically known for two things:  Potatoes and Anne of Green Gables.

Part of the tour of the east coast (1500km driven and they flew out there) took them into Nova Scotia.  Apparently on the boarder between Nova Scotia and New Brunswick there are large signs warning against the importation of bees.  They are large, bee-behind-a-slashed-circle affairs that I hope to photograph when we’re out there this summer.  There isn’t any rationale given for the ban which leads one to think it is probably racially motivated.  They just don’t want those stripes in their fair province.  Perhaps the reason that bee populations are dropping around the world is because they’re all moving to Nova Scotia and the Nova Scotians have had it up to here with all these immigrant bees.

I wonder how they prevent the natural migration of bees (which is something I’m fairly certain happens.  Thousands of bees in large, v-shaped formations winging their way to the summer hives near Halifax).  They’d have to be tracked in some way.  I’m picturing a crack team of snipers with guns that shoot tiny anaesthetic darts.  *Phut* and a bee drops.  The dogs come bounding out and gather the unconscious bees in their mouths and bring them back to the huddled crowd of apiologists and melittologists who gently catalogue and tag the bees.  Unfortunately they have to use birding tags so the bees are left to walk themselves along, dragging the (relatively) giant radio collar behind them.

in my opinion the drug is ready