Emanuel Melo torontonian azorean writer

Friends watching flowers grow

How long did these friends sit to watch flowers grow? I didn’t stay long enough to find out!

Anchorage Provincial Park, Grand Manan

Last summer, we drove from Toronto all the way to the Province of New Brunswick where we took a big car ferry across to the island of Grand Manan in the Bay of Fundy. We stayed in a lovely cottage across from Pebble Beach with views of the ocean. We enjoyed car rides along the coast and the interior of the island, with stops at Dark Harbour, Sea Cove, Southwest Head Light House, and the Swallowtail Lightstation. We also took a small ferry to White Head, a little island just off the east coast of Grand Manan.

Before the visit was over we were already making plans to return this summer. We had no idea then that we would not be welcomed back to the Maritime Provinces this year because they want to contain the spread of the virus that has changed how we live now.

Perhaps we’ll be back one day. It’s hard to know; especially now when it is hard to know how our lives will unfold. For now, I have these photographs to remind me of a lovely visit to Grand Manan.

Castalia Marsh:

Sea Cove:

Dark Harbour:

Swallowtail Lighthouse:

Southwest Head Lighthouse:

Places along the way:

White Head Island:

Pebble Beach:

I am honoured to have a short piece of writing included in a new anthology, Avós: Raízes e Nós.

I extend my gratitude and thanks to the wonderful organizers of this project, Aida Baptista, Ilda Januário, Manuela Marujo, who continue to inspire me, as they do many others, with their tireless work to document and celebrate stories about grandparents and their importance in our lives.

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I wish I could attend the book launch:

July 27^th, 2020 in Lisbon to be held at the beautiful Palácio dos Marqueses de Fronteira, Largo de São Domingos de Benfica 1, from 17h00-18h30.

Contact for  Editora Alma Letra

Smiling in the Darkness by (Adelaide Freitas 1949- 2018, Sorriso por dentro da Noite), published by Tagus UMASS Press, is a beautifully-written, lyrical story of an Azorean family’s journey of immigration to North America.

Through Xana, the 12-year-old girl protagonist in the story, Adelaide Freitas gives us a heartbreaking account of what it means for a child to experience the fracture of family ties. One of the strongest themes in the novel is the idea that you can’t ever really go back and recapture the past and that the present is not always a better place.  The damage has been done.

I relate to Xana because when I was her age, I also experienced being taken from one culture to another, losing beloved family members through immigration, and the ultimate realization that something deep within the soul gets damaged or changed forever.  At the end of the novel, Xana tries desperately to hold on to her world just as it is about to change forever.  It’s a profound moment in the novel that resonates deeply with my own leaving the old world for the new.

There is much more that I could say about this novel but the story is one that should be discovered by reading it.

You can also read Katharine F. Baker’s translation notes here.

I owe a great deal of gratitude to Katharine F. Baker for inviting me to contribute to her translation of this important book of diasporic relevance. I am also grateful to Tagus Press for selecting one of my photographs for the book cover.

Freitas, Adelaide Batista. Smiling in the Darkness. Novel trans. Katharine F. Baker, Bobby J. Chamberlain, PhD., Reinaldo F. Silva, PhD., and Emanuel Melo. N. Dartmouth, MA.: Tagus Press, Mar 2020.

Also available through Amazon

I like to photograph the quality of light that floods the garden during the month of June.

I follow June light as it moves over my garden; playful caresses that illuminate flowers and plants. I click the camera’s release button just in time before the light moves away.

The Peony: Unforgettable Ephemeral Beauty

Peonies visit the garden each June. They blossom for a short while, filling the garden with a quiet beauty that although understated, lasts in memory well beyond the short weeks they live. As I write this, the peonies have already left, and I wait for their ephemeral beauty to return next year.

There are gardeners who see their gardens as works of art, paintings by nature that keep changing with each season, each day even, depending on the weather, light, and disposition of each plant and flower.

Although I like to photograph my garden and its many moods and changes, it is when I can sit and simply gaze at the flowers and plants around me that I am most happy.

I like to read my garden. By that I mean that by being attentive to the garden and observing how each plant and flower grows, I get to know their individual moods, likes and dislikes.  It helps me understand human relationships and their infinitesimal variety by associating people with plants and flowers.

My garden is mostly a perennial garden with different types of Hosta, sturdy and reliable, filling out the garden, year after year, lovers of shade, but burning with too much sun exposure; Peonies that grace the garden in June for a few weeks at the most, delicate and falling apart with the slightest disturbance of wind and rain; Irises, with long stalks that soon droop within days of their glory; Spirea that blooms in a shock of white beauty that within a few days starts to fall like dry snowflakes; Daylilies that open up and close up in response to light; Lilac trees that exude a sweet fragrance for a little while before turning brown after a short-lived season; Queen Anne’s Lace, delicate and white beautiful things; Bleeding Hearts that hang as reminders of human hearts and their frailty; Tulips in April, a splash of colour until their petals fall unless already eaten by squirrels; Hydrangea bushes that bloom in summer but are fussy and need watering, otherwise, they droop and shrivel up.

As I think of each of these plants and flowers that co-exist in the small garden space, living with their peculiarities side-by-side, I am reminded of people and their personalities. Each of us share qualities I see in flowers and plants: resiliency, strength, endurance, but also weakness, moodiness, temper tantrums, falling apart at the slightest thing.

So I like to read the moods and changes of each plant during each season. Like them, some of us survive longer, withstand more, while others are not able to weather storms and fall apart and die. June is a great month for living. Everything in the garden thrives and grows. It’s a positive month. I like to linger in June, before the heatwaves of July and August arrive. The extra care needed for the garden to survive: watering often, constant weeding, too, happens in summer. Each month has its own requirements but for now, I will only think of the ease of June.

View of the Panteão Nacional cupola

During my visit to Lisbon, I stayed in Bairro da Graça, on Largo de Santa Marinha, with a view of São Vicente de Fora from outside the door of the small apartment I rented. Hearing the church bells every night put a smile on my face as did my early morning walks around the neighbourhood while it was still quiet and empty of people.

I visited nearby Santa Engrácia (the National Pantheon), as well as Graça church across from a miradouro with wonderful views of Castelo São Jorge and the city. Every night I sat in the outdoor café there and enjoyed the wonderful views while drinking a delicious galão and savouring a pastel de nata. On my last night, I had two pasteis de nata, to compensate for the fact that I was leaving the next morning for Toronto.

I have come to the end of my photo memories of the last time I saw Lisbon in 2011. It’s been good for my soul to revisit the city during these last few weeks but I must now return, sadly, to present time, 2020, a year that, so far, I don’t think I’ll be reminiscing about too much in the future.

Panteão Nacional

São Vicente de Fora

Bairro da Graça

Largo de Santa MarinhaThank you to all who have taken the time to accompany me on my photo memories of a wonderful visit to Lisbon in 2011.

Although walking is the best way to really experience Lisbon, on my last visit I took trams as much as I could, just for the pleasure of it.