Click below to listen to the narration:
from the salt stung dawns of the atlantic shore...where windswept harbours brace for another storm’s roar...a mother in east preston whispers a prayer…for the woman who lived through the gunfire there...and in kings head...where the tides pull slow...r.c.m.p sift through shadows the villagers know...westward the song drifts to perth’s cold light...where highway 7 froze the world one night...a cruiser struck...a child flown fast by ornge through skies of overcast...in belleville rinks...the senators fall...their coach dismissed at winter’s call...while quinte’s roundabouts rise from frost bit stone...guiding travellers home through the county’s bone...across the shield where the jackpines lean...northern ontario keeps its quiet sheen…municipal leaders lift their voice...for an east west corridor...a future choice...and ottawa towers...rimmed with ice...hold budgets tight and measured precise...the prairies answer with a blizzard’s might...regina’s streets lost in drifting white...while calgary hospitals brace once more...for flu’s relentless annual war...yet still...in the foothills...the candy cane flame of a craftsman’s kettle sweetens his name...then onward to b.c....where the mountains keep…their covenant with storms that never sleep…fort st. john buried in record snow...victoria stunned by a driver’s blow...and finally the nation gathers its breath…for voices of parliament weighing life and death...trade winds shifting...inflation’s slow bend...and the long northern story that refuses to end...