The House That Lucy Built

When I last visited PEI. I remember driving with a friend, looking for the Cavendish beach to hang for a couple of days. En route, driving on a dirt road, we came across a sign that said Green Gables. Thinking it must be Anne's house, we turned to follow the sign and drove up in front of a house. We went in and were told indeed, we were in the house that inspired Lucy Maud Montgomery to write about Anne of Green Gables. In the Anne fiction, that was the house where Anne lived. I remember thinking at the time, You'd think they could give better directions to this house so the visitor doesn't stumble upon it by surprise.

Fast forward 23 years. That'd take us to this week. We drove through the town of Cavendish. The main street is part of the highway 6, with Anne, Green Gables, Avonlea, and Village shops vying for attention. The poor visitor has a hard time separating the real Green Gables from tourist traps. Highway 6, or Route 66? I half expected a giant Anne head attached to the ground - the way giant hot dogs or ice cream cones are plunked into the ground - with her braids turned up, waving at unsuspecting passersby who subscribe to kitsch as a way of life.

When we got to Parks Canada's Green Gables, I see it is the same place I visited 23 years ago. Only we were travelling on a concrete highway, there were huge signs pointing the way, there was an entrance gate with a parking lot rivalling Casino Rama's, a gift shop, a visitor's centre, and an introductory movie. The grounds are well preserved. No, not preserved. Created. Created to be pleasant walks, with posts and fences, signs and explanations, steps to preserve the walk, benches for the weary. What the grounds have to do with Anne Shirley is kept secret from me.

The house is newly wallpapered, all wood shelves are woodblasted to reveal fresh grain. They have an industrious housekeeping crew, for the house is truly a pristinely kept...historical site, where a non-existent person lived. The whole Anne thing has become cartoon like, a parody of itself.

Still, PEI the island is beautiful. I love the grand open skies, with nary a tall building in sight. I love the rolling, pastural fields of different colours and textures. Every turn we make on the road opens onto a postcard moment. I keep threatening to bring home real lobster traps, to start a maritimes theme in my garden. We've had several lobster meals. The best one by far was when we bought cooked lobsters and fresh oysters from the fish market and ate them on a picnic table beside the harbour. The Boy shucked his first oyster. I'm working on him and The Man to better tackle a lobster in its shell.