Where Is Moonshine Tv Show Filmed?

Where is ‘Moonshiners’ filmed? Here’s what to know. – Moonshiners is filmed in the heart of Appalachia and features moonshiners in Kentucky, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia. Obviously the show can’t get too deep into the specifics of where the moonshiners are conducting their business, as the activities are meant to be done discreetly.

The Appalachian region’s history with moonshine makes sense, then, considering the isolation it offers.
As AppalachianTrailHistory.com notes, “omemade liquor is frequently called ‘moonshine’ because it was commonly made at night, under the cover of darkness and by the light of the moon.
This subterfuge helped to keep this illegal activity under wraps and away from the notice of law enforcement.” The site also mentions that there are many Appalachian residents with Scots-Irish ancestry, whose ancestors brought traditional homebrewed whiskeys with them to the new region, utilizing the isolation of the Appalachian area to do so.

Article continues below advertisement Source: Discovery Channel The business has been legalized in some states — including North Carolina and South Carolina, per The Cinemaholic — with the operation of legal microdistilleries. As TheSmokies.com notes, the illegal aspect of the moonshine-making business pretty much comes down to unpaid taxes, which is why “so many moonshine distilleries openly make and sell moonshine.

Contents

0.1 Is Moonshine a real place in Nova Scotia?
- 0.1.1 Is Moonshine shot in Nova Scotia?
0.2 Will there be a season 3 of Moonshine?
0.3 Where Is The Cast Of ‘Moonshiners’ Today?
0.4 How are the siblings related on Moonshine?
- 0.4.1 Is moonshine still illegal in Canada?

1 Where is moonshine filmed in Canada?
- 1.1 Is moonshine a happy ending?
2 Where was moonshine birth?
3 Where is moonshine famous?
4 Is there a town called moonshine?
- - 4.0.1 Which Netflix series was filmed in Nova Scotia?
  - 4.0.2 What part of Nova Scotia is moonshine filmed?
5 Is there a town called moonshine?
- 5.1 Is moonshine show real?

Is Moonshine a real place in Nova Scotia?

Don’t get on the bad side of Moonshine’s family in Hubbards-shot CBC comedy If it looks like the cast members of the new CBC comedy Moonshine are having a blast topping each other with one outrageous deed after another, that’s because they really are.

The new series premiering on Tuesday night at 9 p.m. was filmed in Hubbards and along the South Shore in the waning days of summer in 2020, when the East Coast was enjoying the Atlantic bubble grace period from COVID-19, and feature and series production had ground to a halt nearly everywhere else. Set in a seaside resort called Moonshine in the fictional town of Foxton, the show chronicles the intergenerational squabbles of the Finley-Cullen family as they fight for control of the holiday getaway property that is starting to look a little rough around the edges.

It’s a bit of a romp with clandestine romances, controversial inheritances and a nightly beach bonfire that make the whole thing feel like a vicarious vacation on the small screen, which is pretty much what its creator Sheri Elwood (Call Me Fitz) intended. Call Me Fitz creator Sheri Elwood returns with a new Nova Scotia-shot series, Moonshine, about a dysfunctional family running a declining South Shore Resort. Now in production for its second season, the series will debut on Tuesday, Sept.14 at 9 p.m. on CBC TV and CBC Gem.

– Contributed “Part of the inspiration for writing this show was so I could write myself a summer vacation in Nova Scotia, because it’s been a long time since I’ve been back,” says the writer and producer, back on the set of the show for its second season now in production. “It was fantastic, I feel that we really lucked out during the pandemic.

We were one of the first series to go to camera, and we felt so protected. We built our own backlot, and I really did feel like we were in magical, protected fairyland, a summer camp for grownups.” Except the cast members are playing grownups who don’t exactly act grownup.

Jennifer Finnigan (Sanctuary) plays the prodigal daughter Lidia, now an architect in New York City who returns to Moonshine for the first time in years to discover that her recently deceased aunt has left her a share in the property.
That doesn’t sit so well with kid sister Rhian (Anastasia Phillips), who has stayed on to look after the upkeep of the resort, which is haphazardly run by aging hippie parents Ken & Bea (Peter MacNeill & Corrine Koslo).

As Lidia’s marriage disintegrates, Rhian plots to sabotage her efforts to bring Moonshine into the 21st century, with a ripple effect that causes chaos throughout the many branches of the Finley-Cullen clan. Jennifer Finnigan stars as Lidia, the prodigal daughter of the Finley-Cullen clan in the new CBC comedy series Moonshine, premiering Tuesday, Sept.14 at 9 p.m. – CBC Finnigan first got a taste of her character just before the start of the pandemic, and was thrilled by the opportunities presented by Elwood’s script as Lidia began digging through the mess of her life and “getting down to the nitty-gritty” of what it’s all about.

I loved the story of her and her sisters, and I loved this crazy family,” she says. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, I just want to work on shows that I want to watch, and that I truly enjoy. I just wanted to know this family.” As Rhian, Phillips got the chance to play a character unrestrained by period costumes — as per her roles on Reign, Bomb Girls and Murdoch Mysteries — to play the family wild child whose behaviour usually bears no sign of impulse control.

“It was terrifying,” she says of Rhian’s unbridled capacity for fury. “It felt like a freefall, and either it was going to be awful or I was going to tap into something that I feel is true. “I keep saying that the only way I draw from it is when I think about myself as the most awkward 11- or 12-year-old going through puberty, that hasn’t learned who to put any masks on in order to function in the world. The siblings of the Finley-Cullen family struggle to run their aging South Shore resort in the Nova Scotia shot comedy series Moonshine. Pictured from left to right: Anastasia Phillips, Alexander Nunez, Emma Hunter, Tom Stevens and Jennifer Finnigan. – CBC Phillips also drew from her experience as a middle child among three sisters who understands that unique family dysfunction, from a slightly older generation when children were allowed to cut loose and get a few scrapes along the way. The cast of CBC’s new Hubbards-shot comedy Moonshine are fired up for the series premiere on Tuesday, Sept.14 at 9 p.m. – CBC

When she looks out the window of the building that represents the main lodge of Moonshine, she can see her mother’s house not far away, and she’s reminded of why she loves writing about complicated families where not everyone gets along all of the time.So why not set all of that on the East Coast, where those complications can have a remarkable backdrop that doesn’t always get its due on national TV?”One of the reasons that I love this part of Nova Scotia is that is really is riddled with draft dodgers and drug smugglers and people who are maybe meddling in the grey area of what one would consider to be traditional ethics,” says Elwood.

“I really wanted to put a spotlight on that, although the (ethics) part is made up, I had to say that or my mother would be very upset with me. But there are shades of it around, and in the summertime, there really is a spirit of anything goes and this family embodies that, warts and all.” : Don’t get on the bad side of Moonshine’s family in Hubbards-shot CBC comedy

Is Moonshine shot in Nova Scotia?

Nova Scotian-shot series Moonshine’s second season is a catch W hen it comes to telling the story of a dysfunctional family that’s also financially messy, Jennifer Finnigan says Moonshine —the one-hour CBC dramedy in which she stars—has a lot to add to the canon: “I can’t compare our show to anything, really.

Yes, there’s sort of quirky elements of Arrested Development and Schitt’s Creek, absolutely. There’s a little Succession vibe in terms of wanting to take over the business and the cutthroat aspect of that. But I think it has its own tone, it’s so unique,” says the actor, known for her Emmy-winning stint on The Bold and The Beautiful, head bobbing for emphasis with each series comparison.

“It’s hard to categorize the show: Is it a comedy, a drama, what is it? Is it heightened? Is it grounded? We question that every day. And that is part of the challenge of doing this show, it is part of the beauty of it. That doesn’t come around that often.

So when people ask me: ‘What does it remind you of? And what do you compare it to?’ Well, I can’t really.
I’m so desperate for the world to see the show: Because I personally find it joyful and comforting.
And touching.
And weird in all the right places.” Her co-star Allan Hawco (who you might remember from the CBC series Republic of Doyle ) sits next to her, a chorus of affirming mm-hmms.

“And entertaining!” he adds. “Yes! Entertaining AF!” Finnigan replies. Speaking with The Coast via Zoom, the pair is busy filming Moonshine ‘s third season, with the set looming in the video call background. But while they’re at work, it’s the series’ second season hitting audiences, available to stream on and airing Sunday nights at 9pm on CBC starting this week.

Submitted The dysfunctional family at the heart of Moonshine,
Set on Nova Scotia’s south shore, Moonshine became an instant hit when it debuted in 2021, with the type of addictive messiness that kept Arrested Development afloat for three seasons: Moonshine ‘s Finley-Cullen family is comprised of five adult sibling squabbling over a late aunt’s will—and the faded oceanside resort she left behind.

The tagline of “lust, legacy and lobster” splashed across ads for the show on Halifax city buses that year carried concise expectations. Season 2 sees Finnigan’s Lidia falling for Hawco’s character: “This started as just a physical thing. It was like: She just wanted to jump his bones—she hasn’t had good sex in years.

And so here he is, and he’s got his vibe, his tattoos,” she flips the lapel on Hawco’s leather jacket, they both laugh. She adds: “It gets deeper: It goes down to a deeper level. And then, I don’t want to spoil it, but it becomes real. And I just loved the way that story was told because it’s not a generic love story.

It’s not a Hallmark vibe.” Aside from the rich character development both actors cite as their favourite thing about the series, the other aspect they say sets Moonshine apart is its authenticity. “That’s Sheri Elwood: She always said that she wanted to write a show that would bring her home, essentially.

Will there be a season 3 of Moonshine?

CBC ORIGINAL DRAMEDY MOONSHINE RENEWED FOR SEASON THREE, WITH PRODUCTION UNDERWAY IN NOVA SCOTIA – CBC Media Centre

Created by Sheri Elwood and produced by Six Eleven Media and eOne Ensemble cast stars Jennifer Finnigan, Anastasia Phillips, Emma Hunter, Tom Stevens, Alexander Nunez, Peter MacNeill, Erin Darke, Farid Yazdani, James Gilbert, Celia Owen, Calem MacDonald, Leigh-Ann Rose, Allegra Fulton, JD Martin and Allan Hawco Season 2 premieres this fall on CBC and CBC Gem

CSA-nominated CBC original east coast family dramedy (8×60) will return for a third season in 2023, with production now underway in Nova Scotia. Created by Sheri Elwood ( Lucifer, Call Me Fitz ) and produced by Six Eleven Media and Entertainment One (eOne), the series follows the Finley-Cullens, a dysfunctional clan of adult half-siblings battling for control of the Moonshine, a ramshackle campground on the South Shore of Nova Scotia.

The second season will premiere this fall on Sunday, October 2, 2022 at 9 p.m.
9:30 NT) on CBC and CBC Gem, and the entire first season is available to stream now on,
I’m humbled and thrilled to be able to continue the saga of the Finley-Cullens along with my team of talented writers, directors and cast.

These characters have taken on a life of their own and I’m beyond grateful to our partners at CBC and eOne for allowing us the creative freedom to wave our freak flags for another season,” said showrunner, creator and director Sheri Elwood. “We welcome the Finley-Cullens back to CBC with open arms for Season 2 this fall, and we can’t wait to watch sparks fly between Jennifer Finnigan and Allan Hawco as he joins Moonshine ‘s incredibly talented cast of South Shore characters,” says Sally Catto, General Manager of Entertainment, Factual & Sports, CBC.

“Sheri has crafted a heartwarming and hilarious series centered around a perfectly imperfect family that continues to keep us on our toes, and we can’t wait to see where Season 3 takes them.” “We are delighted to be filming the third season of Moonshine in our beautiful home province of Nova Scotia with our world class crew, remarkable talent and stunning locations,” said Charles Bishop, Executive Producer Six Eleven Media.

The 2022 Canadian Screen Award nominated series stars Jennifer Finnigan ( Salvation ), Anastasia Phillips ( Reign ), Emma Hunter ( The Beaverton, Mr. D ), Tom Stevens ( The 100, Beyond ), Alexander Nunez ( Avocado Toast ), Peter MacNeill ( Good Witch ), Erin Darke ( The Marvelous Mrs.

Maisel, Miracle Workers ), Farid Yazdani ( Day Players, Suits ), James Gilbert ( Suits, Salvation ), Celia Owen ( A Small Fortune ), Calem MacDonald ( Umbrella Academy ), Allan Hawco ( Frontier, Departure ), Allegra Fulton ( Chapelwaite ), Leigh-Ann Rose ( The Young and the Restless ) and JD Martin ( Manifest ).

Where Is The Cast Of ‘Moonshiners’ Today?

Guest stars rounding out the cast in Season 3 are Jonathan Silverman ( Weekend at Bernie’s ) and Kirsten Howell ( Trailer Park Boys ). “It’s an honour to work with the incredibly talented cast and crew of Moonshine, and we’re thrilled to return to Nova Scotia to embark on a new season of exploits with the Finley-Cullens,” said Jocelyn Hamilton (President, Television – Canada, eOne).

“With its unique mix of heart, hilarity and intrigue that fans have come to know and love, this is a season that Canadian audiences won’t want to miss.” A CBC original series, Moonshine is produced by Six Eleven Media and eOne. Created and Executive Produced by showrunner, writer and director Sheri Elwood, the show is executive produced alongside Six Eleven Media’s Charles Bishop.

Jocelyn Hamilton serves as executive producer for eOne. For CBC, Sally Catto is General Manager, Entertainment, Factual & Sports; Trish Williams is Executive Director, Scripted Content; Sarah Adams is Director of Current Production, Drama; and Gosia Kamela is Executive in Charge of Production, Drama.

About CBC/Radio-Canada
About Six Eleven Media
About Entertainment One (eOne)
For more information, please contact:

CBC/Radio-Canada is Canada’s national public broadcaster. Through our mandate to inform, enlighten and entertain, we play a central role in strengthening Canadian culture. As Canada’s trusted news source, we offer a uniquely Canadian perspective on news, current affairs and world affairs.

Our distinctively homegrown entertainment programming draws audiences from across the country.
Deeply rooted in communities, CBC/Radio-Canada offers diverse content in English, French and eight Indigenous languages.
We also deliver content in Spanish, Arabic, Chinese, Punjabi and Tagalog, as well as both official languages, through Radio Canada International (RCI).

We are leading the transformation to meet the needs of Canadians in a digital world. Six Eleven Media was founded in 2011 by Canadian media industry veteran and Executive Producer Charles Bishop. The talent-focused company creates and produces content to air across multiple platforms.

With offices in Halifax and Los Angeles, Six Eleven Media has grown into a supplier of hit content in Canada and the US.
Entertainment One Ltd.
EOne) is a talent-driven independent studio that specializes in the development, acquisition, production, financing, distribution and sales of entertainment content.

As part of global play and entertainment company Hasbro (NASDAQ: HAS), eOne’s expertise spans across film and television production and sales; production, distribution and brand management of kids and family properties; digital content; and immersive and live entertainment.

Through its extensive reach and scale, and a deep commitment to high-quality entertainment, eOne unlocks the power and value of creativity.
EOne brings to market both original and existing content, sourcing IP from Hasbro’s portfolio of 1500+ brands, and through a diversified network of creative partners and eOne companies.

Elizabeth Reid CBC, Public Relations [email protected] 647.981.7059 Mario Tassone Unit Publicist [email protected] 416.889.6993 : CBC ORIGINAL DRAMEDY MOONSHINE RENEWED FOR SEASON THREE, WITH PRODUCTION UNDERWAY IN NOVA SCOTIA – CBC Media Centre

How are the siblings related on Moonshine?

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Call Me Fitz creator Sheri Elwood returns with a Nova Scotia-based series that explores warped relationships. Published Sep 13, 2021 • 3 minute read Moonshine features a motley crew of siblings. Photo by CBC You can’t pick your family, but you can certainly use them as creative fodder for television shows. Sheri Elwood knows this well. She says she drew on her brother, a car salesman at “the height of his playboy shenanigans,” when she created Call Me Fitz — a comedy that debuted on HBO Canada in 2010, won bunches of Gemini Awards and Canadian Screen Awards and ended in 2013.

This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. Now, with the CBC show Moonshine, she’s found inspiration in other relatives. The dramedy centres on the Finley-Cullens, a dysfunctional group of adult half-siblings vying for control of the family business, a rundown Nova Scotia summer resort called The Moonshine.

It debuts Tuesday on CBC and CBC Gem. “I cannot tell a lie, this show is semi-autobiographical. My family run a summer campground and resort on the south shore of Nova Scotia and I come from a very big blended, crazy family of adult half-siblings,” Elwood says.

And I’ve always wanted to tell this story.” Jennifer Finnigan stars as Lidia, who returns home from New York. Anastasia Phillips plays Lidia’s half-sister Rhian, while Emma Hunter is Lidia’s younger blood sister, Nora. Tom Stevens stars as Rhian’s twin Ryan, and Alexander Nunez plays adopted sibling Sammy.

This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. Does Elwood ever fear her family’s reactions to seeing versions of themselves on screen? “Of course there’s always that worry,” she says. “But any good writing always comes from very personal place.

And I think that because this story ultimately is about a family that loves each other and will go to war for each other, it’s a positive thing.
This is not the smackdown version of my family — maybe that’s next.
But this is a love letter to this part of the world and to my family.” It would be easy to mistake Finnigan, who appeared alongside Elwood in a video call to promote the show, as Elwood’s long-lost sibling.

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The two laugh easily, joking and finishing each other’s sentences. The connection, says Finnigan, was instant. This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. “I knew right away that I wanted to work with Sheri. There was something about her energy, and her writing is just so good.

The way that she writes for women is so incredible and succinct and done with such care,” the Montreal native says.
We’re almost the same person.
We adore each other.
We could yap for hours.
We laugh all day.
The only time we get into actual fights is when it’s freezing October, and we start shooting at 7 in the morning.” Production on Moonshine started last summer, with both Finnigan and Elwood flying to Nova Scotia from their homes in the U.S.

and excited to be back on Canadian soil. There weren’t any COVID cases in the province until after they wrapped. The timing was perfect. And besides, Moonshine just wouldn’t have been the same show if it were set anywhere else. This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below.

There’s just a very specific emotional patchwork here that I haven’t really experienced in other parts of Canada, or Los Angeles or New York or anywhere else in the world.
People aren’t afraid to let it all hang out here — in the best and worst of ways,” says Elwood.
I’ve seen a lot of stories set in Nova Scotia, but no one ever told the story of my Nova Scotia, which is messy and dysfunctional.

In this part of the world, there are a lot of artists and hippies and draft dodgers. It’s just not the polished, pretty version of the Maritimes that we generally get to see on TV. I thought it was time to exploit it.” Moonshine debuts Tuesday, Sept.14, on CBC and CBC Gem.

Is moonshine still illegal in Canada?

It is only illegal to distill liquor or moonshine in Canada without a license, so be sure to buy your moonshine from a distillery that is properly licensed.

Where is moonshine filmed in Canada?

Nova Scotia-shot series Moonshine returns in October, season 3 underway STORY CONTINUES BELOW THESE SALTWIRE VIDEOS The misadventure of the South Shore’s Finley-Cullen clan will continue into 2023, with the news that the CBC dramedy Moonshine has been renewed for a third season.

Production on the upcoming episodes is already underway, with the second season of the Nova Scotia-shot series premiering with eight new hour-long episodes beginning on Sunday, Oct.2 at 9 p.m.
On CBC and CBC Gem.
The Sheri Elwood-created ensemble comedy about a dysfunctional group of adult half-siblings who run a South Shore resort called Moonshine that’s seen better days had a dramatic finale in 2021.

An escalating storyline about smuggled drugs and a dead body came to a head with the arrival of Gale, a mysterious crime figure played by Republic of Doyle star Allan Hawco. East Coast actor Allan Hawco (Republic of Doyle) adds some outlaw biker zest to the second season of CBC’s Nova Scotia-shot Moonshine, which will return for a second season in the fall of 2022. – Contributed “I’m humbled and thrilled to be able to continue the saga of the Finley-Cullens along with my team of talented writers, directors and cast,” said showrunner, creator and director Elwood in the announcement of Moonshine’s extension to season three.

These characters have taken on a life of their own and I’m beyond grateful to our partners at CBC and eOne for allowing us the creative freedom to wave our freak flags for another season.” Moonshine stars Jennifer Finnigan as architect Lidia Bennett, who puts her career and marriage on hold to return to the resort in the fictional town of Foxton, where lingering issues with siblings Rhian (Anastasia Phillips), Nora (Emma Hunter), Ryan (Tom Stevens) and Sammy (Alexander Nunez) often conflict with efforts to put the facility back in the black.

Meanwhile, parents Bea (Corrine Koslo) and Ken (Peter MacNeill) do their best to contain the chaos. The Finley-Cullen clan of CBC’s Nova Scotia-shot comedy-drama Moonshine return for season two starting on Sunday, Oct.2 at 9 p.m. Meanwhile, production has begun on a third season which will air in 2023. – CBC

“We welcome the Finley-Cullens back to CBC with open arms for season two this fall, and we can’t wait to watch sparks fly between Jennifer Finnigan and Allan Hawco as he joins Moonshine’s incredibly talented cast of South Shore characters,” says CBC’s general manager of entertainment, factual & sports, Sally Catto. “Sheri has crafted a heartwarming and hilarious series centered around a perfectly imperfect family that continues to keep us on our toes, and we can’t wait to see where season three takes them.”The upcoming seasons will also see the return of Jonathan Silverman (Weekend at Bernie’s) as Lidia’s husband Daniel Bennett and Trailer Park Boys’ Kirstin Howell as “Thirsty Katie”.The CBC original series is produced by Halifax- and Los Angeles-based Six Eleven Media and eOne, with previous episodes from the first season available to watch on the CBC Gem platform.”We are delighted to be filming the third season of Moonshine in our beautiful home province of Nova Scotia with our world-class crew, remarkable talent and stunning locations,” said Six Eleven Media executive producer Charles Bishop.

: Nova Scotia-shot series Moonshine returns in October, season 3 underway

What part of Nova Scotia is moonshine filmed?

Opinion: Making my TV show in Nova Scotia put the ideas of homecoming and the simple life to the test The set of Moonshine on Nova Scotia’s south shore, where a TV show about a dysfunctional family’s resort would bring my life and art together in strange ways. Main photo: Scott Smith • Additional photography courtesy of Sheri Elwood Sheri Elwood is a screenwriter, director and showrunner.

The first season of her TV series Moonshine can be streamed on CBC Gem and Netflix on May 2.
The second season will be released later this year.
The morning I decided to radically simplify my life, the regular security guard was out sick.
I pulled up to the gated entrance of Warner Bros., the studio where I was working as a writer-producer for the TV show Lucifer, expecting to be waved through as usual.

But the new guy didn’t recognize me. He insisted he see a photo ID. A driver’s licence. My secret shame. I’d lived in Los Angeles for more than a decade, but was too scared to attempt the California road test. There are a few things I’m good at: roasting a chicken.

Choosing the playlist. Sloth.
Things I’m bad at: parallel parking – a trait inherited by my teenage daughter, who aced every school test yet crashed our car so many times, she once even blamed a tree she’d downed.
The guard waited.
The jerk in the Tesla behind me honked. Fine.
I fished out my old licence.

The guard examined it: Nova Scotia? Where was this exotic place? As far from L.A. as you could get without falling in the glacial North Atlantic. Did I have family there? Yes. Mom’s got a love-hate thing with her new hip. Stepdad spent the kitchen reno money on a backhoe.

And the dogwoods are in bloom.
Big, pink flowers.
I planted them 15 years ago, but always miss spring. I paused.
Summer too.” The guard nodded.
Recognition, tinged with sadness.
That’s when I noticed the hint of an accent.
We’re all a little far from home, huh?” He handed back my ID and opened the gate.
Moments later, I pulled in to my parking spot alongside our writers’ bungalow, my name stencilled in black on a cracked concrete curb, a weird perk of having “made it” in Hollywood.

Then I turned off my ignition and burst into tears. Me on my parents’ property. The urge to flee the big city in search of a simpler life is a relatively modern conceit. In my circle, the feeling starts to creep in around the fortysomething mark – an itching desire to return to the cozy idyll of the place we’d grown up, or, even better, finding an entirely new place, the place we wished we’d grown up.

I knew dozens of burnt-out city dwellers considering this reverse migration, or, as I liked to call it, GTFOOD: Getting The F Out Of Dodge.
It was the classic Hallmark fantasy; ditching the high-pressure career, deprogramming our city kids and reconnecting with THINGS THAT MATTER, including, but not limited to: an adorable pet goat/pig/rooster named after a Criterion Collection film character, elderly neighbours with homespun-albeit-often-outdated advice, a charming fixer-upper you magically knew how to renovate, and acres of fertile land purchased for the price of an L.A.

chaise. You’d reconnect with family, even if you didn’t have family, because small towns welcome strangers with open arms. And butter tarts. There’s always butter tarts. The food varies, depending on the season; rhubarb pie, fresh steamed lobster, poutine, oysters plucked from Sober Island – you get the gist.

Prepandemic, few actually indulged the fantasy, my husband and I included. We were tethered to our careers, an unwieldy house, four kids, two dogs, turtles predicted to grow to the size of large dinner plates, and a nanny, Griselda, long outgrown but who still showed up for work every day. We couldn’t just bail.

Who would monitor the leaky pool no one swam in? The answer came when a producer, Charles Bishop, asked if I had any interest in creating a show set in Nova Scotia. “Something about a family, maybe there’s music?” I took it as a sign. Yes, I had an idea.

A story about an urban career woman who inherits half of her family’s failing campground. So, the actual plot of a Hallmark movie? Not quite. My show would deal with family dysfunction, long-buried trauma, addiction, sexual repression, poverty, infidelity, tax evasion, drug smuggling and crazed sibling rivalry.

But funny! I pledged to pull all the skeletons out of the closet, or, in my case, dig them up from the front lawn. Specifically, I wanted to dramatize the relationship of three sisters pushing 40, who most definitely did not have their shit figured out, livestock they’d named or happy endings with high-school sweethearts who now ran the local bakery/organic farm/diner.

Moonshine, a raucous tale of lust, legacy and lobster, would be inspired by my own family who ran a ramshackle summer resort and campground in Hubbards, a small coastal town on the south shore of Nova Scotia.
The idea checked no boxes, served no political agenda, but it felt timely and true.
It was the show for anyone who’d ever longed to return home in search of a simpler life, then made the insane decision to follow through.

Low stakes, Big Drama. And yes, there would be music. Moonshine would play out against a backdrop of classic rock, because everyone knows that small-town radio has the same 20 songs on rotation – anthems burned into our national psyche. Even if women-of-a-certain-age stories weren’t your thing, you’d watch my show and yearn to rock an old-school spliff with Joni and April Wine, goddamnit.

Charles was intrigued, but wondered about the autobiographical nature of the show: “Won’t your family mind?” I paused, oblivious to my own obliviousness. “Why would they mind? They’ll be thrilled.” We sold it to CBC the following week. Inside the making of Moonshine. Early in the pandemic, Nova Scotia, with its strict COVID-19 rules, would be a comfortable and safe place to make the show.

While Moonshine was green-lit for production in late 2019, no one anticipated what was about to befall the world. We went to camera in the summer of 2020, pandemic pioneers, one of the first shows in the country to mask up and roll the contagion dice.

Even so, I wasn’t worried about travelling back to Canada, or the idea of returning to the workplace, because nothing was scarier than L.A.
At the time.
No amount of sunshine or round of afternoon Negronis could paper over the growing homeless encampments, protests, the threat of Donald Trump being re-elected and the Fear.

Everyone in Hollywood was losing their minds. In contrast, Nova Scotia, with its strict rules, was virtually COVID-free – a utopian beacon of sanity. While my husband is American, I held the golden ticket, a Canadian passport. It was our way out, and we were taking it.

After we sold our L.A. home to a well-known actor-director, who loved our easy access to the freeway in case the zombies rolled in, we packed our belongings, put a sight-unseen offer on a renovated church hall in the UNESCO World Heritage town of Lunenburg, and waved goodbye. It would be amazing, I promised our youngest son, 16.

He’d gone to summer camp in Nova Scotia. Now he’d get to experience that feeling year-round. “Ticks, bad food and pink eye?” Charlie wasn’t sold. “It’s not forever, right? Please tell me we’re going back to L.A. after COVID?” I assured him the world would right itself eventually, then we’d see what’s what. My parents’ property in Hubbards was close enough to set that Mom could watch the goings-on from her porch. Traditionally, the Maritimes have been a place people moved away from in search of greener pastures, but for the first time in its history, the greener pastures now had an ocean view.

In 2021, Nova Scotia marked its largest population boom since the 1970s, the modestly sized province topping,
Business is booming, and not everyone is happy about it.
Housing prices have skyrocketed, which means some locals can’t afford to rent in their own towns, let alone buy.
Tradespeople are few and far between because of the uptick of new builds.

Even rental cars are in short supply – wannabe residents scouting for their new lives. Would we be welcomed back? Or was this a chase-the-newbies-with-torches situation? While technically I was considered a “local,” I suspected my return might be deeply annoying, because it’s one thing to go home, quite another to go home with a huge fleet of trucks and trailers and a cast and crew of 120 in tow.

Maybe I’d be given a pass? Hell, I was hiring local and bringing a certain notoriety to the town.
They should be thanking us, right? Charles, the producer, was still worried about my folks.
Mellow by nature, Mom took it all in stride.
She claimed to enjoy monitoring the action from her front porch, because she knew how bossy I could get and didn’t want my crew to revolt.

Then she reminded me about a prep meeting I was late for in the lunch tent. Of course, she’d asked to be put on call-sheet distribution and had my line producer on speed dial. My mother and stepfather. Initially, this clash of the personal and professional worked. I rode the bike I’d abandoned years ago from set to set, weighing in on decisions ranging from tenor of a joke to the colour of the David Crosby-inspired beanie our fictional patriarch, Peter MacNeill, wore.

And while we writers had no parking with our names on curbs – or any real perks for that matter – we did score a cabin near the beach. A typical day: writing, Swim at lunch. Revisions in the sun. My colleague Moira would force-feed me a butter tart, then I’d stop to check in on Mom to remind her to lay off the smokes and work on the hip.

She’d smile politely. Then tell me to piss off. The dream was manifest. If only I could find a decent place to sleep. Our “charming fixer-upper” in Lunenburg turned out to be a huge empty space with rows of merciless church windows. It was freezing on cold days, a sweltering terrarium in the sun.

The downstairs, gussied up just enough to be deemed “residential,” had poured concrete floors only a fascist could love and no usable outdoor space. The former owners also turned out to be giants. Countertops, shelving, even the built-in bed had been designed for 6½-foot-tall aliens. We couldn’t reach the mugs.

Vertically challenged writers without caffeine is an ugly, ugly thing. This was a months-long reno at best (we’re currently on Year 2), which meant we couldn’t unpack our eighteen-wheeler’s worth of belongings. Think the warehouse from the last scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark, Boxes, furniture and more boxes at our ‘charming fixer-upper’ in Lunenburg. In the interim, I asked my mom if we could crash on the campground near set. Sure, she said, but it was busy season – possibly their busiest ever. Nova Scotians who weren’t allowed to vacation outside of the province had been coming in droves.

Between my crew and tourists from Truro, the dreaded Cabin 3 was all that was available. When my mother didn’t like the sound of a guest making a booking on the phone (she didn’t believe in online) she’d stick them in Cabin 3. When a band came to play the Shore Club and required accommodations, the toothless roadie got Cabin 3.

Cabin 3 was code for roughing it. A quiet fuck you from the owners. The stove was a barely functioning hot plate. The shower worked fine if you didn’t mind rusty water. Rustic chic extended to the vintage mattress where, judging from the smell, I’m pretty sure the roadie had just taken a nap.

My siblings thought this was hilarious.L.A. Sheri in Cabin 3? “Mom must be pissed.” I assured them she wasn’t and that L.A. Sheri was no more. This was new, back-to-basics Sheri. If I could handle flying coach with two dogs, I could handle Cabin 3. They reminded me that my husband flew with the dogs. I flew business.

No matter. It was cheap, which meant I could afford that Fleetwood Mac song for Moonshine’s soundtrack. And, bonus, I had a view of the main house, so I could monitor Mom’s habits – and she mine. Rolling in after a night shoot. Trolling for cell signal. Hiding from Judy, the local historian, who was desperate to include me and my spectacle in the Hubbards historical records.

I was the story of a local girl who made good and Judy wanted the dirt. Sure, the characters on Moonshine were fictional, but which of my real siblings did I base the alcoholic brother on? Had Nora really slept with the entire volunteer fire department? More pressing, that scene where the lead, Lidia, runs over a tourist with a golf cart? Judy was there when that actually happened, years earlier.

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Were those charges ever dropped? Corrine Koslo, shown with Peter MacNeill on set, plays the mother on Moonshine. It’s one thing writing about your life. Quite another when you return to the scene of the crime to see it realized on TV. The meta nature of Moonshine could no longer be ignored as siblings, cousins and parents visited set, only to be met by their fictional counterparts.

Corrine Koslo, who plays the mother, Bea, on the show, even started shopping at my mom’s favourite dress shop and, in turn, my mother ordered Corrine her favourite lipstick so they could match.
Yeah, it was weird.
And it was my own damn fault.
I’d been directing a scene about our fictional radio station, COVE-FM, set at the real radio station, also named COVE-FM, when I was approached by the town bookkeeper who kept an office next door.

She gushed. Moonshine had given a much-needed boost to the local economy, and everyone was so grateful. She couldn’t wait to see the show. “Your mother is so proud.” “And resilient,” cracked my ex-husband, our production designer, Bill Fleming. Resilient? What the hell did that mean? Tired of being damp and dirty in Cabin 3, I hightailed my giant rental Jeep to my mom’s parking spot and hauled dirty laundry to her door.

It was locked. Impossible. Mom went out without telling me? Even the hidden key was gone. Were my siblings right? Was Mom pissed? Sure, I’d spent more than a few nights in my sister’s childhood bedroom. I was sick of set catering, so was raiding their fridge on the daily. Our teenagers had taken up residence in Grandma and Grandpa’s den, and yeah, my crew was stopping by on the nightly for a bevy.

My parents’ deck had become the hottest club in town and no one paid their tab. Certain locals were also getting sick of us: We drove too fast up Shore Road. We depleted the liquor and organic-food aisles at the local grocery store. Night filming was loud, disruptive and shone lights into the campground. A sign at our trailer park marks the distance back to Laurel Canyon in California. We had come a long way to be here, in more ways than one. Children leave the nest because that is what mammals are designed to do. It’s healthy and natural. So, if and when we make the decision to come back home, we need to be okay if said nest is different.

Smaller – if the nest is still there at all.
Because that’s nature too.
Parents miss us, but the truth is, they don’t want us gentrifying their coffee shops, crashing in their den or naming their goats.
My family was okay with me making a show inspired by them.
They were proud.
What they weren’t okay with was me monitoring the life they’d built in my absence.

If the old hippies felt like sneaking a butt or getting loco in the hot tub, they wanted to do it in peace. Production on Season 1 eventually wrapped – the last episodes had us filming a hot summer beach scene as an early snow flew and my gifted lead, Jennifer Finnigan, pretended to sweat.

The 80-some-odd trailers and trucks moved on, restoring my mom’s view, and our cast and crew flew back to L.A., Ontario and B.C. As for us reverse migrants, I moved out of Cabin 3 and back into my sort-of-renovated behemoth in Lunenburg. My husband and I finally opened boxes, piling dishes into drawers and shelves we could now reach, and I had a moment to consider the gravity of what I’d done.

Because transplanting your entire family to scratch that Hallmark itch had a dark side for the rest of the family, too. Charlie was struggling at the local high school, unable to be the hero of his own story when he walked amongst “non-playable characters” – gamer speak for kids who didn’t know what to do with my arty L.A.

Teen. Masked, shy and oh-so-different than his small-town Canadian counterparts, he hadn’t made a single friend, and our other three college-age children were separated by a COVID-ravaged border. And as for my work-life balance? The “radical simplification”? Making a TV show is all-consuming and I hadn’t had a day off since we’d arrived.

I never did get to visit the local farmers market and the days I was able to enjoy my dogwoods in bloom were few and far between. In trying to forcefully impose the warped Hallmark fantasy, both real and fictional, I’d created a much bigger problem. Yes, I was back home, but my big-city burdens had moved back with me. Making Moonshine didn’t leave a lot of time to enjoy the small-town life I’d come to savour. My mom called, worried. She’d found a single boot in Cabin 3 and was concerned I was barefoot. Did we want to come for supper? SWEETJESUSYES. We were starving because our new oven arrived broken beyond repair.

For the second time.
Now that filming was over, it was quiet again in Hubbards, a sunny day in October.
We sat on my parents’ porch and ate.
Glorious chowder.
We laughed that Judy never did get the full story, and we admired the towering, ancestral pot plants my stepfather cultivated and strategized how to move them inside, mid-squall.

Then, we screened the first episode of Moonshine. It wasn’t the dysfunction, the language or the tangled emotional dynamics that my parents recognized. Much to Charles’s relief, they never assumed the show was “about” them, as people rarely see themselves as their loved ones do.

What struck my parents, glued them to the screen, were the shots of their beloved small town.
They clapped and gasped at every drone shot of the coastline, the white sand beach, our fictional band rocking out at the Shore Club.
Look at where we live! Now the world will get to see it too.” They were bursting with pride.

For their home. And for me. It was that moment, tumbler of boxed wine in hand, surrounded by the OG Moonshiners, that I realized why I’d come back home and what the show was really about: what Hollywood execs call the “why now” of this tale. Moonshine isn’t a show about the quest for a simpler life, because simple is bullshit.

It does not exist.
Life is messy, heartbreaking and unpredictable.
You can try to run from the complexity, but it’s impossible to hide – especially in a town where everyone knows that the woman who ran over the tourist with the golf cart was you.
The reason I’d cried that day on the studio lot wasn’t because I hated my life in L.A.

or because I craved simplicity. I cried because I was missing an important piece of the life puzzle. Family. Making time, real time, for the people who mattered. The people who called me on my bullshit. The mother who cared if I was hungry and barefoot. Emma Hunter, Jennifer Finnigan and Anastasia Phillips portray the feuding sisters at the heart of Moonshine. Several months and a second season later, I was back in L.A., settling a much-happier Charlie into his senior year of high school, when I got the call.

Mom had fallen over and couldn’t get up. This time, it wasn’t a hip issue, or too much gin. An emergency MRI had revealed rapidly spreading lesions on her brain stem. A rare form of cancer. The whole clan came home. Me and my non-fictional siblings sat at Mom’s bedside, thanking her for our lives, telling her that we loved her and, most of the time, each other.

I called everyone I’d ever known, and everyone they’d ever known, to track down a neurosurgeon who might give us hope. Making a TV show during a pandemic is child’s play compared with navigating Nova Scotia’s health care system. To no avail. Five weeks later, my funny, proud, hot-tub-loving mother was dead.

While my grief is incalculable, I worry my siblings’ suffering may be worse.
Like most children who leave the nest, they’d been away from home for many years – the complications of COVID-19, young children and busy careers.
I was the only idiot naive enough to upend my life and move back to a small town that didn’t want me, yet was kind enough to welcome me back along with the circus I’d dragged along for the ride.

Was it fate? Opportunity? Had I sensed the fragility of time as the world was on the verge of falling apart? My children and I were lucky enough to have seen my mother every day for two years, whether she wanted to see us or not. She’d remind me of this as she pulled us in for a hug. Moonshine is available for streaming May 2 on CBC Gem and Netflix. : Opinion: Making my TV show in Nova Scotia put the ideas of homecoming and the simple life to the test

Is moonshine illegal in Newfoundland?

Canada Moonshine Laws Explained. To be clear, it’s illegal to make moonshine without a license from the federal government.

Is moonshine illegal in Nova Scotia?

Easter Sunday was spent with a friend whom we had not seen in a long time. Time spent with him is always fun; besides great food and conversation, his home is filled with all sorts of fun toys. Our previous visit had us playing with his theremin; this time around we discovered that he has a pot still.

While the still may be legal in Nova Scotia, moonshine is not,
Whereas it is easy enough to purchase a still in Nova Scotia, officially, they are sold for the purpose of water purification and essential oil extraction.
In the past few years, artisanal distilling has begun to flourish in the province, with small private distillers opening in Lunenburg, Antigonish and Guysborough counties.

However, the Alcohol and Gaming Division of Service Nova Scotia that oversees the Liquor Control Act does not allow distilling in the home. Needless to say, we were more than a little curious about the still since, until very recently, no-one was (officially) making grappa in Nova Scotia. For the more distinguished pallet (arguably.) there is the process of distilling the leftover grape residue (skin, stems, and seeds) from the wine-making process. Ironworks Distillery, a micro distillery located in Lunenburg, has recently added grappa to its line of various distilled products. While grappa is legal in Nova Scotia, distilling and making one’s own grappa at home is not. Sadly, since that is not likely to change in the near future, learning all that is involved in the making of grappa can at least sate part of our curiosity. In the meantime, we can also fantasize about starting our own micro-distillery.

Is moonshine a happy ending?

I am madly in love with you.’ Ro Seo teases him at first, acting as if she would not accept his proposal. Then, she pushes him against the wall as she did when she first met him and gives him a kiss. The show ends with the two sharing a sweet kiss under the moonlight.

Where was moonshine birth?

A Centuries-Old Tradition – The origins of moonshine can be traced back across the Atlantic to Scotland and Ireland. In these Celtic countries, making and drinking whiskey were time-honored traditions. When Scottish and Irish immigrants made their way to Appalachia, they used local corn to distill whiskey for their community to enjoy.

Where is moonshine famous?

Local History: Franklin County, Virginia – The Moonshine Capital of the World.

Is there a town called moonshine?

Geography – The location of Moonshine is published on United States Geological Survey topographical maps as well as the Geographic Names Information System (GNIS). It is GNIS feature ID 422996 and is listed as a populated place. GNIS lists the Moonshine at 39°11′26″N 087°53′44″W / 39.19056°N 87.89556°W,

Which Netflix series was filmed in Nova Scotia?

Segments of a Netflix show Locke & Key was filmed in Whitchurch-Stouffville, and a movie was filmed in part in King City Two towns in York Region were the filming backdrop for a show and a movie that are now streaming on Netflix. The third and final season of the Netflix series Locke & Key was filmed throughout Nova Scotia and Ontario.

One of those filming locations was in Whitchurch-Stouffville, according to Netflix in Your Neighbourhood, an initiative by the streaming service that highlights filming locations of popular series and movies.
A wedding between two characters in the show was filmed at Willowgrove at 11737 McCowan Rd., which is a not-for-profit organization that provides outdoor land-based experiences for all ages including camps, recreation programs, education, and facility rentals.

Locke & Key also filmed in Toronto, Hamilton, and Woodstock, as well as Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. The fantasy drama series includes a number of Canadians in the cast, including one of the main stars Connor Jessup, who is from Toronto. Also on Netflix, the movie 13 The Musical was filmed throughout Ontario including in Beeton, Toronto, Oakville, and King City, according to Netflix in Your Neighbourhood.

Villanova College, an independent school at 2480 15th Sideroad in King City, served as the Indiana High School where the main character Evan attended in the film. The coming of age musical also boasts a number of Canadians in the cast. Viewers can also keep an eye peeled for Main Street in Beeton, Film.Ca Cinemas in Oakville, and 1871 Berkeley Church and The Windsor Arms hotel in Toronto in the film.

Netflix in Your Neighbourhood launched in September 2021. It allows viewers to search by province or title to find the real-life locations where their favourite series and movies were filmed.

What part of Nova Scotia is moonshine filmed?

The first season of her TV series Moonshine can be streamed on CBC Gem and Netflix on May 2.
The second season will be released later this year.
The morning I decided to radically simplify my life, the regular security guard was out sick.
I pulled up to the gated entrance of Warner Bros., the studio where I was working as a writer-producer for the TV show Lucifer, expecting to be waved through as usual.

Choosing the playlist. Sloth. Things I’m bad at: parallel parking – a trait inherited by my teenage daughter, who aced every school test yet crashed our car so many times, she once even blamed a tree she’d downed. The guard waited. The jerk in the Tesla behind me honked. Fine. I fished out my old licence.

And the dogwoods are in bloom. Big, pink flowers. I planted them 15 years ago, but always miss spring. I paused. “Summer too.” The guard nodded. Recognition, tinged with sadness. That’s when I noticed the hint of an accent. “We’re all a little far from home, huh?” He handed back my ID and opened the gate. Moments later, I pulled in to my parking spot alongside our writers’ bungalow, my name stencilled in black on a cracked concrete curb, a weird perk of having “made it” in Hollywood.

I knew dozens of burnt-out city dwellers considering this reverse migration, or, as I liked to call it, GTFOOD: Getting The F Out Of Dodge. It was the classic Hallmark fantasy; ditching the high-pressure career, deprogramming our city kids and reconnecting with THINGS THAT MATTER, including, but not limited to: an adorable pet goat/pig/rooster named after a Criterion Collection film character, elderly neighbours with homespun-albeit-often-outdated advice, a charming fixer-upper you magically knew how to renovate, and acres of fertile land purchased for the price of an L.A.

Prepandemic, few actually indulged the fantasy, my husband and I included.
We were tethered to our careers, an unwieldy house, four kids, two dogs, turtles predicted to grow to the size of large dinner plates, and a nanny, Griselda, long outgrown but who still showed up for work every day.
We couldn’t just bail.

A story about an urban career woman who inherits half of her family’s failing campground.
So, the actual plot of a Hallmark movie? Not quite.
My show would deal with family dysfunction, long-buried trauma, addiction, sexual repression, poverty, infidelity, tax evasion, drug smuggling and crazed sibling rivalry.

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Moonshine, a raucous tale of lust, legacy and lobster, would be inspired by my own family who ran a ramshackle summer resort and campground in Hubbards, a small coastal town on the south shore of Nova Scotia. The idea checked no boxes, served no political agenda, but it felt timely and true. It was the show for anyone who’d ever longed to return home in search of a simpler life, then made the insane decision to follow through.

Even so, I wasn’t worried about travelling back to Canada, or the idea of returning to the workplace, because nothing was scarier than L.A. at the time. No amount of sunshine or round of afternoon Negronis could paper over the growing homeless encampments, protests, the threat of Donald Trump being re-elected and the Fear.

After we sold our L.A.
Home to a well-known actor-director, who loved our easy access to the freeway in case the zombies rolled in, we packed our belongings, put a sight-unseen offer on a renovated church hall in the UNESCO World Heritage town of Lunenburg, and waved goodbye.
It would be amazing, I promised our youngest son, 16.

In 2021, Nova Scotia marked its largest population boom since the 1970s, the modestly sized province topping,
Business is booming, and not everyone is happy about it.
Housing prices have skyrocketed, which means some locals can’t afford to rent in their own towns, let alone buy.
Tradespeople are few and far between because of the uptick of new builds.

Maybe I’d be given a pass? Hell, I was hiring local and bringing a certain notoriety to the town. They should be thanking us, right? Charles, the producer, was still worried about my folks. Mellow by nature, Mom took it all in stride. She claimed to enjoy monitoring the action from her front porch, because she knew how bossy I could get and didn’t want my crew to revolt.

And while we writers had no parking with our names on curbs – or any real perks for that matter – we did score a cabin near the beach.
A typical day: writing,
Swim at lunch.
Revisions in the sun.
My colleague Moira would force-feed me a butter tart, then I’d stop to check in on Mom to remind her to lay off the smokes and work on the hip.

The downstairs, gussied up just enough to be deemed “residential,” had poured concrete floors only a fascist could love and no usable outdoor space. The former owners also turned out to be giants. Countertops, shelving, even the built-in bed had been designed for 6½-foot-tall aliens. We couldn’t reach the mugs.

Between my crew and tourists from Truro, the dreaded Cabin 3 was all that was available.
When my mother didn’t like the sound of a guest making a booking on the phone (she didn’t believe in online) she’d stick them in Cabin 3.
When a band came to play the Shore Club and required accommodations, the toothless roadie got Cabin 3.

My siblings thought this was hilarious.L.A. Sheri in Cabin 3? “Mom must be pissed.” I assured them she wasn’t and that L.A. Sheri was no more. This was new, back-to-basics Sheri. If I could handle flying coach with two dogs, I could handle Cabin 3. They reminded me that my husband flew with the dogs. I flew business.

I was the story of a local girl who made good and Judy wanted the dirt.
Sure, the characters on Moonshine were fictional, but which of my real siblings did I base the alcoholic brother on? Had Nora really slept with the entire volunteer fire department? More pressing, that scene where the lead, Lidia, runs over a tourist with a golf cart? Judy was there when that actually happened, years earlier.

Corrine Koslo, who plays the mother, Bea, on the show, even started shopping at my mom’s favourite dress shop and, in turn, my mother ordered Corrine her favourite lipstick so they could match. Yeah, it was weird. And it was my own damn fault. I’d been directing a scene about our fictional radio station, COVE-FM, set at the real radio station, also named COVE-FM, when I was approached by the town bookkeeper who kept an office next door.

Smaller – if the nest is still there at all. Because that’s nature too. Parents miss us, but the truth is, they don’t want us gentrifying their coffee shops, crashing in their den or naming their goats. My family was okay with me making a show inspired by them. They were proud. What they weren’t okay with was me monitoring the life they’d built in my absence.

The 80-some-odd trailers and trucks moved on, restoring my mom’s view, and our cast and crew flew back to L.A., Ontario and B.C.
As for us reverse migrants, I moved out of Cabin 3 and back into my sort-of-renovated behemoth in Lunenburg.
My husband and I finally opened boxes, piling dishes into drawers and shelves we could now reach, and I had a moment to consider the gravity of what I’d done.

Teen. Masked, shy and oh-so-different than his small-town Canadian counterparts, he hadn’t made a single friend, and our other three college-age children were separated by a COVID-ravaged border.
And as for my work-life balance? The “radical simplification”? Making a TV show is all-consuming and I hadn’t had a day off since we’d arrived.

For the second time.
Now that filming was over, it was quiet again in Hubbards, a sunny day in October.
We sat on my parents’ porch and ate.
Glorious chowder.
We laughed that Judy never did get the full story, and we admired the towering, ancestral pot plants my stepfather cultivated and strategized how to move them inside, mid-squall.

What struck my parents, glued them to the screen, were the shots of their beloved small town.
They clapped and gasped at every drone shot of the coastline, the white sand beach, our fictional band rocking out at the Shore Club.
Look at where we live! Now the world will get to see it too.” They were bursting with pride.

It does not exist. Life is messy, heartbreaking and unpredictable. You can try to run from the complexity, but it’s impossible to hide – especially in a town where everyone knows that the woman who ran over the tourist with the golf cart was you. The reason I’d cried that day on the studio lot wasn’t because I hated my life in L.A.

Mom had fallen over and couldn’t get up. This time, it wasn’t a hip issue, or too much gin. An emergency MRI had revealed rapidly spreading lesions on her brain stem. A rare form of cancer. The whole clan came home. Me and my non-fictional siblings sat at Mom’s bedside, thanking her for our lives, telling her that we loved her and, most of the time, each other.

While my grief is incalculable, I worry my siblings’ suffering may be worse. Like most children who leave the nest, they’d been away from home for many years – the complications of COVID-19, young children and busy careers. I was the only idiot naive enough to upend my life and move back to a small town that didn’t want me, yet was kind enough to welcome me back along with the circus I’d dragged along for the ride.

Is there a town called moonshine?

Is moonshine show real?

Whether you happened upon this phenomenon randomly while channel surfing or you’ve been a long-time fan of Discovery Channel’s hit TV show “Moonshiners”, you may have pondered at some point: Is this real life? The short answer is: No, it’s television.

This is not reality.
But here’s the question you should be asking: Is any of it real? When shows like “The Real World”, “Survivor”, “Fear Factor” and “American Idol” debuted generations ago, the concept of reality TV was groundbreaking.
Now, with hundreds if not thousands of reality shows coming and going in the intervening years, viewers are savvier.

Our expectations have changed. Do we still think that everyone who brings an exotic item into Rick’s pawn shop just walked in off the street? Have we ever found it odd that every time the “American Pickers” arrive at someone’s house, even on “surprise” visits, the homeowner is all mic’d up? Do we think if the cast of the Discovery Network show “Moonshiners” had really been thumbing their nose at the revenuers for twelve seasons, somebody, somewhere wouldn’t have gotten busted?