It rained so much at home in NS last night that my parents' fish pond's liner floated up from all the water coming up underneath it. Two thirds of their goldfish are dead, there was only about a bucket of water left in the pond.

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Si à travers nos veines coule encore le sang...
Si dans les jeux d'enfants on entend encore l'accent...
Si nous sentons encore l'espoir de nos grands-parents...
Si dans les voiles du large souffle encore le vent...
Y'a jamais eu de Grand Dérangement.