There is a little garden grotto at the elementary school.
“It looks like the Virgin Mary used to live here,” I said when I first noticed it.
The woman I was walking with told me that the building had once been a convent.
Apparently, the Quebec used to be quite littered with them.
“You have to take a picture of this leaf,” said Iris, over and over.
“Did you take one? Did you take a picture of the leaf?”
Mom & Dad & Dan were going to visit. Mom ended up having to get a lump removed from her lip.
We miss her very much.
* * *
We show Dad & Dan the trail to the island.
When we get there, Dan realizes there is a lot of work to be done to secure the island from invading forces.
They get off to work in the usual manner.
Dan does some warm up exercises to prepare for hard labor.
Iris gathers material.
Dad needs some rest.
Akiva makes sure no one is sneaking up from behind.
Dan surveys the engineering.
Iris works on construction.
Dan works on construction.
Tired from all the construction, Dad needs a nap.
“There is an island,” they said, the people who have lived here all their lives. “Once you find the trail, it is about 20 minutes away. The trail starts at the end of the road.”
So I looked. I looked in all the possible places a trail could be. I walked where I thought there should have been a trail, were there a trail to have. I saw signs that there once was possibly a trail. Literally, signs. Metal signs. Impossible to get to. But they said there was a trail, and they said there was an island.
Roxanne showed us the long way in, over not too far from the school, which we’ve been using. And today, we went down to the island for the first time. First you have to get to the end of where the foot trail is and look over the cliff. Then you just go straight down! Plop! It’s that simple. Getting up is another story.
Here we look at the river from the island.
Trees grow on the island.
Neatly folded stratigraphic rocks decorate the fringes of this little spot of land.
Oh, no! The island is inhabited by a fierce tribe of weekday campers!
“Oh! Great, stout stick! Give me power against these litterbugs!”
With great agility, Akiva fends them off with his stick.
The campers flee, leaving behind tarps and ropes and trash. Akiva surveys his newly conquered island.
Curved stones form thrones at the edge of the land. We will be sure to return with the rest of our people.
Gaby & Huguette reached the grand milestone 50 years of marriage on August 12th! We were to busy moving in to have a party for them, so Martin made the wise decision to hold off on a celebration until autumn. They had to rent a gymnasium in order to be able to fit all their brothers and sisters and multitudes of offspring in one room. When you come from a big family and live in the same town your entire life, you rarely have a shortage of people to invite to your party. And if being in the spotlight in front of a grand number of people makes you nervous, you might need a couple drinks before you can smile. Or a tickle. As you can see, for this photo, I asked Martin to go tickle his father to make him smile. Look! It worked!
Camp Val-Esterie used to exist. Across rue Gosselin from their property, there is proof of it. There are some games and obstacles off the sides of trails through the woods. Many of the games should be removed, as old ropes strangle trees. Some of what is left behind is quite nice, such as this little bridge. It is just the right size for Akiva.
Much farther, we find a much larger bridge. I was not brave enough to lean over the side to photograph the river far below. I will have to return later, to find out where it leads…
We went to Vermont for some final business. We stayed at Chloe’s house. There were apples in the apple tree and we made cider and we walked by the river. I have but one photograph of our trip. My beloved Iris. Iris in Vermont. Vermont. Vermont in autumn. Love.
We found a piano
in the woods.
I do not know any of the answers.
We take the bicycle to buy vegetables and eggs at L’Abri Végétal.
At the edge of their property is an historic covered bridge.
Under the bridge is water.
At the edge of the water is mud.
In mud lies
happiness.
