One of my sisters has just made the move from the oil boomtown of Calgary to a small rural setting in Prince Edward Island. She is surrounded by boxes in a lovely old house near Vernon River and has the following to say, in her first email from the red isle:"You know you're back in the country when you are up to your knees in red mud and actually wearing the Wellies you bought in Ireland because you thought you were cool. You know you are back in the country when the man in front of you in line at the Tim's window is on a tractor, and you are definitely in the country when you open your old-fashioned mailbox and a bird flies out and you discover mail is crammed against two large birds' nests. Sounds very bucolic, to me, and I would switch for it immediately, to keep from being anywhere near the insanity of the G20 in Toronto. Best wishes, sis'.