We stop in the woods at the side of the bike trail, to visit the Massawippi River.
And, look! So many things to see.
What else can we find?
In this little sliver of heavenly woods— the greatest blooming of Indian Pipe that I have ever seen!
My camera cannot capture the masses and the expanse, for at a distance, they simply blend into the forest floor.
Closer and closer, to the limits of my camera. I cannot move in close enough.
Again, we take the bike path to North Hatley.
Like the tourists, local folk, motorcyclists,
bicyclists, summer people, and retired folk,
we are ones who like to watch the lake.
Exploring before this year’s school starts, we find ourselves a swing.
To bike to North Hatley, we take the dirt road that goes over the covered bridge.
Before the bridge, there is a pull-out at the Massawippi River.
The slope at the bottom is gradual.
It looks like a nice place to get wet.
The bottom is covered in small pebbles. There is no industrial debris.
Certainly there is agricultural run-off. Fortunately, there are no cows standing in the river.
Few cars pass. We are alone.
I am certain we will come again.
We return to North Hatley. The bike ride there is lovely.
There is a teeny-tiny sandy beach at the spot where the pier begins, right by the main road.
A few rocks make a retaining wall, and where there are rocks, there are rocks to climb.
It is not a bad spot, small as it is.
It is not a bad spot to stop and play.
Papa has to return to Shelburne to do some work on the house.
The rest of us take the electric bike down the bike path to North Hatley.
We find a tree to climb,
a pier to look about,
a wall to walk upon,
and Lac Memphremagog, where there is no place for swimming.
The Coaticook River is only a minute’s walk from our house.
Industrial town. Industrial river.
The day we left, our sadness poured down from the heavens
poured down upon us as we left
the rain poured down
upon us.
There will be a last time that we pass between these trees.
And there will be a last time that we walk among the flowers.
There will be a last time that we wade across this river
and wander uninhibited amongst the ferns for hours.
We miss you.
Because we cannot bring our houseplants to Canada, we bring them to Chloe’s house.
