Archive for the ‘Woods & Rivers’ Category
Iris’s 9th Birthday
For Iris’s birthday, she decided she wanted to eat carrot cake on top of Mount Ham. So we did. If mount Ham was good enough for me, then it was good enough for her. Carrot cake was what the rabbits voted for, but we didn’t bring rabbits. At the last minute, Iris also decided to bring a friend. Fortunately, there was a very good one available for last-minute birthday parties on mountain summits.
Hymie and Napua came with us for the purpose of taking photos. Hymie is all fixed up so he could attend the doll party in good form. The biggest difference, aside from the fact that his fabric is now perfect, is that his mouth is about 1/8th of an inch narrower. It’s quite noticeable if you know him! Napua is Megan reincarnated. She includes all of Megan’s stuffing plus some, and her head is configured over Megan’s old head. But really, nothing is the same aside from the fact that Iris still has three dolls instead of four. You wouldn’t recognize her in any way shape or form, but they say that reincarnation is like that.
While Amaëlle took time to finish her cake (she is especially good at savoring), Martin hiked to the other high point on the peak. Once Akiva saw that his papa was all alone, he wanted to go, too! Do you see that tiny blue spot to the left of the slightly larger red spot, just to the right of what appears to be a ham radio tower on the peak?** That’s Akiva! He went all the way over there all by himself.
**It is not actually a ham radio tower: it is the profile of the enormous crucifix where they tortured the last of the wild mountain giants.
How we ended up behind Isabelle’s house—
We went looking for a shortcut,
We went looking east and west,
But we did not find a shortcut—
We decided long was best.
Frog on Ice (Johnville Bog & Forest Park)
Where the sun shines most, the snow was mostly melted.
Unfortunately for this ambitious amphibian, many paths were still coated in ice.
The Island in Winter
We walk to the island. The children take turns pulling.
Akiva does not need to drink much water in winter: he eats the snowballs from his fleece mittens. When I notice his once-white chewing gum has become pink, I realize he has side-stepped the food-chain of microplastics consumption assumed in oceanic plastics pollution studies and gone directly to the source. I wonder how many thousands of plastic microfibers he has consumed on this walk. I feel helpless.
At the island, the tire swing, high above the river in summer, hangs low above the snow.
Iris steps on—
—swing!
Akiva, shorter rounder and nearly as heavy, is more timid on the swing.
Iris pushes him gently.
He smiles bravely.
Johnville Bog, Winter
In winter, the boggy back trails of the Johnville Bog & Forest Park freeze over.
The park management opens them up for foot traffic.
Far off the well-beaten track of boardwalks and open bog lands, the boreal forest is full of hops.*
We examine some rabbit poo. They seem to have been eating mostly bark and needles.
Looking around, I have no idea what else rabbits could possibly eat.
*Rabbit tracks
Le marais dans la neige
Last year’s walk across the ice at the Ile du Marais was delightfully memorable, so we invited Martin to come with us this year. Perhaps because it is earlier in the year, there is more snow and many more people. There are also trucks, vans and ATVs driving on the ice. Fishing houses crowd the lake. When we walk around to the back side of the biggest island where the fishing is poor, there are many fewer people. A couple of ATV drivers, beers in hand, stink up the air and ruin the quiet as they speed randomly through the protected area of the marsh. The ice between the marsh plants becomes unpredictable. Past the area where ATVs can drive, tiny footprints trace paths between the vegetation. For a few minutes, there is silence.
The Chained Tree
We went for a walk in the snowy woods.
We found a chained tree.
Mont Ham, Parc Régional du Quebec
For my birthday I took the kids out of school. I do this every year because, as far as my kids are concerned, my birthday is more important than any national or religious holiday. It’s true for them, of course. They’d be fine if Christ never rose or fell or if Quebec was still a French colony or if women never got the right to vote. But if I had not birthed them? Woe! My children are realists. Martin is the most likely (read: only) candidate for father, but, again, without the advent of genetic testing in the 1950s (and you can celebrate National DNA Day on April 25th!) there’d never be any proof of this. Therefore, despite his unconditional love and utter devotion to their health and well-being and his wonderful presence, he’s just simply not quite as important as I am. Yes, here I am, the most important person on planet Earth, a densely-peopled planet three rocks out from the Sun. I don’t actually do anything to encourage this feeling in my kids. In fact, I think all kids feel this way about their moms.
So, for my birthday, I took advantage of the fact that I’m an important person. I took my children up Mont Ham. We went up the steepest way— the red trail on the map (below)— and it was wonderfully steep. Due to the steepness, I had planned on taking another trail down. However, due to the late start, we were still on the mountain side when the sun began to set in the late-afternoon, mid-November way it does. For this reason, we also went down the not-as-wonderful-on-the-way-down-extremely-steep red trail. We were, in fact, still on a quite steep part of the mountain side when the sun was well over the horizon. That’s when I turned on my head lamp and gave profuse thanks to whomever it was who decided to mark the trail with reflective trail markers. That was probably the best surprise of my birthday. In fact, I’d say that reflective trail markers were the best surprise of the entire year. Heck, reflective trail markers were quite possibly the best surprise of the decade. What a wonderful, wonderful birthday present.
Here are my two side-kicks at the summit. It was quite windy, as summits are.
There was a lot of snow blowing around, but it didn’t seem to land on anything.
Autumn, L’Île du Marais
When we get there, we walk across the boardwalk to the island. On the west side of the boardwalk, turtles bask in the setting sun. I did not buy my camera for the purpose of photographing far-away turtles. I chose my camera for the purpose of photographing children. The binoculars are for the turtles. If there are still turtles when my children are grown, they will still look like turtles. We will still see them with binoculars in that future. If there are no turtles when my children are grown, we will look at photographs of turtles that other people have taken. We will say, “Remember when there were turtles in the ponds? They sat on logs in the sun and we looked at them.” A world with turtles is a happier place than a world without turtles.
In the middle of the island there are rocks with moss on them. There are trees. If there is a time in the future when there are no turtles and no people, at least for a while there will be rocks with moss. For a while, there will be trees. Everyone will wish they could be there.
My favorite part of the walk, at least at the moment, is around the back side of the island. There is the edge of the island. There is the still water, the marsh, the hill, the silver steeple of Canton-de-Hatley. There is the sky. There is the moon. The world is everywhere we look.
