From an editorial in today’s Charlottetown Guardian (which is part of the larger SaltWire conglomerate):

From now on, we at SaltWire will refer to what’s happening to our climate as a climate crisis, instead of the usual “climate change.”

It represents a change in tone that we feel is appropriate to the urgency of the matter.

We’ve been chewing on this for some months now, since the group Extinction Rebellion besieged our office in Halifax and were invited in for a chat.

They asked us to consider this change in language, as they’re convinced people aren’t alarmed enough about the issue to insist that governments do something. Referring to it consistently as a crisis or emergency, they said, could eventually help people change how they feel about it. It could make a difference.

Extinction Rebellion deserves our thanks for making this case; SaltWire deserves our thanks for listening, and acting.

I had a regular weekly meeting that ended at noon today, which gave me an opportunity to close the meeting by going on strike. Perhaps not too brave a move when I’m my own boss.

I walked next door, to the backyard of the Coles Building, to join the climate strike protest, expecting, given my aversion to crowds and yelling, that I’d stay for a few moments and then go on to have lunch.

Instead, I got caught up in the proceedings.

The event, which seemed to pleasantly lack concrete leadership, came to feel like an organism all its own. After half an hour of gathering behind Province House, the group appeared to spontaneously start moving; down Grafton to Prince, along Richmond Street to Queen, a stop at City Hall, a stop at MP Sean Casey’s office, along Fitzroy and to The Guardian office, and then back to the Cole Building. Occasional organic chanting. An expansion into taking up the entire street when opportunity afforded. City Police seemingly caught unawares and not sure quite what to do. Anachronistic honks of support from SUVs. It all worked out.

The crowd seemingly included people from 0 to 100. There were commendable contingents from both the Ellerslie - Foxley River area, from Central Queens, and from Greater Dover.

I ran into Oliver, who protests independently now.

He is a rebel. For life.

As a self-identified stakeholder, I’ve been invited to participate in a “Visitor Experience Strategy Workshop,” hosted by Parks Canada, about the future of Province House:

The workshop will consist of a series of discussions and activities through which you and your fellow participants will identify the qualities that distinguish Province House from other Parks Canada places and other regional parks and attractions. The VES workshop is the first step to determining the path forward at Province House, and will be followed later by an interpretive planning session. The outcomes of this workshop will provide the foundation for guiding the redevelopment of the visitor experience.

The invitation requested “each participant to choose 3-4 images (from your own collection, from the Internet, etc.) that you feel best represent Province House. These do not necessarily need to be pictures of Province House, but rather images that best represent the essence of Province House to you.”

Here are the images I forwarded:

When I arrived tonight from Montreal on Air Canada 1686, my bicycle and trailer were where I left them a week ago at Charlottetown Airport

Forty minutes later I pulled up in front of 100 Prince Street. Exhausted. But chuffed.

I started my day driving a Chevy Bolt EV from Burlington, Vermont to Montreal. After dropping it off I rented a car2go electric Smart car and drove across town for lunch, then took Metro and bus to the airport.

What a day.

Elizabeth May is holding a Green Party rally on Monday, September 23, 2019 from 7:30 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. in Memorial Hall at the Confederation Centre of the Arts in Charlottetown.

I saw Ms May speak twice during the provincial election in April. She is a compelling, passionate, witty speaker. If you’re thinking of voting Green in October’s federal election, Monday will be a good opportunity to learn more about the party and its leader.

Posted up at Le Dépanneur Café after buying out the books-about-cycling-and-race-and-feminism at Drawn & Quarterly.

Seventeen years ago I was also in New England, also at the tail end of a work trip. My office network connection, back on PEI, went down. Which was a problem, as it connected websites to the Internet. So I called Aliant, and a helpful person named Heather solved the problem for me.

The Island being the Island, I learned last week that this Heather is the same Heather that I now sit on the Mayor’s Task Force on Active Transportation with.

When booking a room at the lovely Latchis Hotel in Brattleboro, Vermont, you can select a “mountain view” room (with windows looking out on Wantastiquet Mountain, just across the border in New Hampshire) or a less expensive “interior view” room (with a view of, well, not much at all).

What they don’t tell you, however, is that an “interior view” room comes with a window that opens out on Whetstone Brook, which runs into the middle of town and into the Connecticut River. I left the window open last night and enjoyed the best sleep of my trip so far due its pleasant sound.

I arrived here in Brattleboro last night, after a short drive from Dublin, NH. This stop has become a trusted airlock between Yankee life and home life (2015, 2013, 2010, 2002), and this weekend was no exception: I had supper at the co-op across the street, and saw Downton Abbey in the Latchis Theatre downstairs.

Today I am heading north, stopping in Windsor at the American Precision Museum (it is Museum Day here in the U.S., so I was able to secure a free ticket!), and ending up at the home of my friends Valerie and Lars in Burlington for the night.

I stopped my car along Rte. 101 this evening, as I was driving from Dublin to Brattleboro, to take this photo of the sun starting to set on Brewster Forest. This is, by far and away, the best time of year to visit New England, and, by my count, the 12th year since 2000 that I have done so.

When Fall comes to New England
And the wind blows off the sea
Swallows fly in a perfect sky
And the world was meant to be
When the acorns line the walkways
Then winter can’t be far
From yellow leaves a blue jay calls
Grandmothers walk out in their shawls
And chipmunks run the old stone walls
When Fall comes to New England

— Cheryl Wheeler, When Fall Comes to New England