Decembre 2024

All were up for an early devotions and a grab & go breakfast that included fresh almond croissants and muffins from our favorite boulangerie along Viau, La Marguerite. It was an appropriate day for the start of December, beginning bright and cold and clouding over through the afternoon. It was still nippy by the evening. We hauled off to church again for the program involving Roxton Falls and Alexandria, and the crowd of around forty was primarily youth. There were just four couples and three children out of that number: Phil & Brenda Wiebe (back to spend another night and finish the painting upstairs tomorrow), Gary & Chelsea Nichols, Hugues & Amy and Louis Andries, and us. We had a good program socializing after that. Stepping out the door to head home we saw a world covered in a dusting of white. It's December, let it snow.

Just a quick note on the arrival of the new missionary family in Montreal. Darrel & Natalie Ensz of Transylvania, LA reached their destination at last in the early afternoon. We first caught sight of them a few hours later when they stepped in the door to join us all for supper, and that was good getting to know them! One of Tyler's buddies, Corey, is a brother to Natalie so all the more reason to hang out. 

They seem like fun folks. Darrel is 30 and outgoing, Natalie is 25 and also seems outgoing. Their two young children are younger than Alec so for a change Alec doesn't seem like the baby anymore. Sabrina made (waaaay too much) discada for supper, with sides of rice, black beans, salsa, and horchata to drink. I'd soaked the rice overnight and did the rest of the process through the afternoon. There was tres leches cake for dessert later, and lots of fun conversations to participate in (or just listen). 

The children got acquainted a little too, or at least Julian and Alec were all-out showing their true colors and it got to be a little chaotic at times but everyone enjoyed it. Shouldn't we all, really? The Ensz's will find out sooner or later just what kind of folks they'll be putting up with for the next four months. Oh but it will be fun.

Night in the city is never quite dark, and anytime of the year when there are clouds, they capture the lights of this metropolis and cast a glow over everything. Snowstorms take that to a much greater effect. It's been below freezing most all the day, and flurries began flying in the later afternoon and continued into the night. 

But it's a strange, white night. The clouds and falling snow capture even more light, and the glow bounces off all the world below, not to mention everybody's lampposts flooding the front yards and streets. You could drive around the neighborhood without lights, go for a long walk, whatever you wish. If sitting out on the deck was a comfortable thing to do, you could read a book out there without straining the eyes too much -- I held a book out the back door to try it just now, and read a few lines.

When snow falls in Montreal, the city gets on it pretty quick. There were a few inches accumulated by the early morning when Tyler and I ferried his friends off to the airport. They'd enjoyed their time here quite a bit it seemed, and just yesterday Matthew and Jeremy Toews picked them and Tyler up and went off to tour a little of Ottawa. They visited Parliament, and while they couldn't get in on a session where the prime minister was involved, a security guard took them in afterwards (or to another room) where they could see what the rest of us have only seen in pictures: Trudeau in real life, shaking hands with people. The guys also got a tour of the office of the house speaker, courtesy of the speaker himself. It sounded like an all-around interesting visit. 

The drive to the airport was even quicker than normal because of less traffic and a clear but briney Autoroute 40. A lot of it is elevated like one endless bridge down the island but there was no ice to slide on. Snow fell heavier for the next couple hours after our return. At daylight I pulled the shovels from under the front steps and got busy clearing our walks and pulling snow off the tempo. There's something satisfying about getting to stay put while snow falls and occasional sirens sound somewhere out on the boulevards. 

Tyler and Micah bundled up to head off to Welcome Collective but had to wait quite a while for a delayed bus. Julian and Alec were eager to do some sledding, and mama was craving an outing together, so I dug out snow clothes as well and off we went. I pulled the boys on a sled down the sidewalks, across the street to our nearest park, and then out through there to the far corner. The snowflakes were fatter now in the slightly milder air. Leaving that park we crossed Boulevard Viau and soon found ourselves at Parc Coubertin, which has a hill with trees, but open on both sides. We stood at the top of the hill and I had a flashback to October 19, standing here when all the trees were brilliant colors, and what I wrote about it: "We'll have to come back in the winter; both slopes look like good ones for sledding." Ratty green snow fences are set up over the hill, more to designate where people may sled rather than for catching blowing snow it seems. There were paths down the hillside, we weren't the first to come and try it out. 

We had ourselves a magical time out there, piling on the sled together. The boys were thrilled with the rides. Then we rolled balls of snow and stacked a snowman on top of the hill, finding mismatched sticks for arms, a leaf to stick out of a snow hat, and cones foraged from under the white pines for the facial features. Mama and the boys totally disappeared at the end of our outing. I'd been occupied and hadn't heard her shout to me earlier, so I did a lot of walking before finding them over at the Parc Coubertin playground. Together we trekked the kilometer back to the house, through the wonderlands of snowy parks. Tyler made us a good supper that evening of steak strips in sauce over rice with a Caesar salad. Outdoors, temperatures and a little more snow kept falling.

The breeze was sharp and I was glad for the layers I'd put on, especially the lined leather jacket which is really good at blocking the cold. Still I was none too warm for the long wait out at the bus stop. Yesterday the snow had fallen, even softened a little, but no longer. I thought of the North Wind, Kabibonokka, in the poem "The Song of Hiawatha." He has arrived on this island whether we welcome him or not. Here is one small portion from chapter two of this fascinating epic.

But the fierce Kabibonokka

Had his dwelling among icebergs,

In the everlasting snow-drifts,

In the kingdom of Wabasso,

In the land of the White Rabbit.

He it was whose hand in Autumn

Painted all the trees with scarlet,

Stained the leaves with red and yellow;

He it was who sent the snow-flake,

Sifting, hissing through the forest,

Froze the ponds, the lakes, the rivers,

Drove the loon and sea-gull southward,

Drove the cormorant and curlew

To their nests of sedge and sea-tang

In the realms of Shawondasee.*

♦ ♦ ♦

There was sunshine later in the morning but the air was no warmer. "Doughnuts?" Tyler asked as we left Welcome Hall.

"It's been a while," I said. Indeed, Micah hadn't yet been to Léché Desserts. Our footsteps took us across the railroad tracks and on up the sidewalk to the large brick building where this truly legit shop is found on the street level. 

We checked the glass showcase but couldn't find our favorite, the lemon meringue. "It's a summer flavor," the girl behind the counter explained. In its place was a chocolate mousse doughnut which I opted for (and found it about as good as those lemon meringues). Each of us got a hot chocolate to go. We scooted and slid along the icy back alley near the railroad and were soon back in the metro. 

Sometimes taking extra time with a diversion on the way home brings another treat. This one appeared very suddenly in the form of a man stepping on the train right close to where we were seated. He held a worn accordion and said he'd play two songs for some cash, and off he went into a very skillful performance. Such agility of fingers, and what harmonies! I didn't recognize anything until one part identified the piece as La vie en rose, and after that he modulated into a cheerful mélange of holiday tunes. Some applause and a few donations followed the last notes and he moved on up the train. 

We were stuck at Prefontaine for a few minutes over that time. The announcer said something about someone or someone's child being sick, thus the delay. I have no further details so I'm not sure just what the situation was. In the quiet of the waiting we could hear bright notes filtering down the train among the passengers as the accordion player treated some other folks to his performances.

"Was he homeless?" Sabrina asked later.

I wasn't sure. "Maybe down on his luck. He was playing for change." 

And like she remarked, folks like that are lucky in a sense because they have something to give in exchange. Finely honed skills put to use like that seem to garner a fairer response. 

And as one more treat, we were late enough back to Station Cadillac to be on time for the next 432 Express bus, so we were home before long. 

♦ ♦ ♦

It was a classic "metro singing at Jean Talon" scenario: step off the train about ten minutes late, walk through the station to the harp where we'll sing, and Regan Toews is already there waiting for us. He was, too! Regan flew in last evening and will spend most of a week showing Darrel the ropes of being a missionary in Montreal, meeting different people, stopping by places for volunteering, etc. And of course getting in on the weekend's activities. 

We sang out of the Christmas binders and that sure was a good time. Presently our numbers grew with the arrival of Pat & Vanessa and their three children, and then Matthew and Jeremy showed up. With a fine group of singers like that, we made the spacious station and corridors echo with joyful carols. I'd say it was one of the best Jean Talon singings we've had this year. 

Regan kindly brought three huge pizzas to CPS for supper and house mama fixed a side salad. It was so good to be together as we were. Too bad Caitlin and the girls couldn't be here also, just like old times. At the end of the evening, Tyler and Micah left with the Toews boys to spend two nights out at their home in the country.

♦ ♦ ♦

*From The Song of Hiawatha, Chapter II, "The Four Winds"

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(I recommend this poem as a good read this winter.)

A city like this is so full of fine nooks. When we find a new one, we often marvel that we have never come here before. It's only reasonable as one can only do so much. You could spend a long, long time just discovering them all.

The shop we visited this afternoon for the first time soared to the top of my favorite places in Montreal: @Matcha. This tea shop sits on Rue Rachel in the Plateau Mont Royal neighborhood, the same street as the Amber restaurant and La Banquise. Two weeks ago when we dined on Indian food at Amber, we peered in the windows of the tea shop on our way back to the van. It looked like the place for us considering our love of matcha. It boasts 4.9 out of 5 stars across 400+ reviews, if that says anything.

Montreal is a bean enthusiast's dream with over sixty-eight dozen coffee shops, and I've been in a few of them. Not usually by myself, obviously. If you know me, you aren't surprised to hear that I usually get a hot chocolate, chai latte, or matcha latte. Very rarely have I found coffee shop matcha lattes to my liking. But move aside, Mollo, Myriade, Olympico, September, Crew Collective, and all those other cool coffee shops -- I've found a tea house after my own heart. 

We stepped through the wooden door into the quiet space and the proprietor greeted us, "Bonjour!"

"Bonjour! Hello!" we answered. He took a look at us and immediately made a connection. "You are Gary's friends? Gary and Chelsea?" 

I was less surprised that he knew them, than that he mentioned them right away. (I'd seen Chelsea's review on Google Maps before coming.) "I've known them for many years," Nestor said. "They are good friends. They are peaceful." He showed us one of Chelsea's artful mushrooms displayed on a shelf. 

"What's a good matcha to try?" I asked. He recommended his Iron Matcha ("that's Chelsea's favorite"), and Sabrina thought she'd like to try a black matcha ("that's Gary's favorite"). 

"Wow!" she said. "You remember what everyone likes?" But that's Nestor. He has some kind of a sharp memory, is wonderful with people, and is a master at tea. 

Black matcha was new to us. "It's black tea. 'Matcha' simply means 'ground tea.'" She opted for a chai in the end.

Julian said, "I want a blue matcha." 

"That would be a tea made from flowers."

For children he has a cold "teamonade" which he brought out in a small glass bottle with two cups for the boys. We were seated by the window, looking at books while waiting. The shop was a little dim, with lots of plants around, Nestor's own paintings displayed on the wall (they really are good), and soft music playing. A few other customers were absorbed in their books and drinks. Nestor was busy grinding and brewing the teas and soon brought our brimming cups. 

After draining the last drops of transcendent flavors we deposited our mugs on a counter and paid. "You don't want to take the rest with you?" he asked, referring to the unfinished teamonade, and sent the bottle home with us, not even questioning if we'd be back sometime to return it. "Or send it with Gary's, so they have a reason to come here again."

I picked up a handcrafted pottery teacup from the nearby shelf. "Do you make these too?"

"No, I just paint." 

On the counter is a rack holding at least a dozen more paintings, and flipping through, I found some magnificent ones. Soon we stepped out into the frosty air. Just like that we had found another friend in Montreal.

On the way out we turned down Mont Royal Avenue, glowing with color and abuzz with action. To quote mtl.org, "A great place to shop, Mont-Royal Avenue is full of little treasures: fashion boutiques, bookstores, vinyl record stores, cheese shops, bakeries, restaurants and specialty grocery stores." Nearly every tree lining both sides of the avenue has colored lights, a different color on each tree. 

We were taking in the sights when we came by a small plaza full of people. There was a song in the air. We rolled down a window and heard a French song with the music of O Christmas Tree being sung by a vocal ensemble. A little farther on we found a parking spot and hurried over there. Then the choir on the stage was singing a song called Mele Kalikimaka, which ends, 

"Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright

The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night

Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii's way

To say Merry Christmas

A very Merry Christmas

A very, very, Merry, Merry Christmas to you."

An announcer told everyone that it was the last song for the evening so we hurried back to the warm van pronto. Too bad we hadn't discovered these Christmas carolers earlier, but maybe we'll run into them again sometime.

Often when winter comes, number one on my list of things I'm thankful for is a warm place to be. Here we are in a northern city where winter comes early. Throughout this city there are those who have no such luxury, and their presence in shadowy corners of metro stations or sacked out on benches by the platforms is a stark reminder. One could name many more fine things that are part of our life. We enjoyed a good combination of them on this Sunday.

My day technically began as a continuation from the end of yesterday. Keith & Karen and Andrea Wedel along with Anna Deeva flew in to Montreal a little past midnight, returning from their ten days abroad to Washington and California. So I stayed up after the rest went to bed, doing some language study and then going out to shovel more powder that was falling right merrily. I had hardly known it was snowing until noticing the general brightness outside and opening the door for a look. Later I got out on the highways with Keith's Dodge Caravan. I wouldn't say it was a super relaxing ride with the roads as bad as they were, but the traffic out there at that hour moved pretty confidently so I was at the airport before long. We dropped Anna off at her apartment on the return trip to CPS, and from there the Wedel's had a long haul yet to their home in the country. 

There were things to gather up and take along with us to church for the dinner. We got there a little late, but no matter. Unlocking church and turning on the lights is no longer ours to worry about. Tyler and Micah arrived pretty much on time with the Toews boys, so when we stepped in the door the group was already singing. Alex & Adrianna Penner came from Roxton Falls to help with the service. And it was so, so good to have Regan with us again, and hear the inspiration he brought for a message. Everyone stayed for dinner afterwards. Even Akli's wife came; we hadn't seen her for a few weeks. She's a teacher and recently switched schools, and it sounds like she's had a few adjustments with that. It seemed everyone was very upbeat, and why not, with the mission house filled again and an old friend back for a Sunday. 

Alexandria had their C.E. program in the evening so we drove out there and even took part with a couple songs (one of them, our favorite French carol). The program had many parts and it seemed like most were special songs, so that was great. The youth gathered afterward at Phil & Brenda Wiebe's, while we followed the map out through the woods to Jeremy & Brittany Isaac's. Brock & Brooke Toews, more of our age group, came too and it was a good time together, to the point we left plenty late. We ran to Phil's to pick up the boys, which of course took much longer than them jumping in the van, and rolled on to the city.

The air was mild first thing in the morning, up around 40°. Rain fell through the day, melting off a lot of the recent snow or at least turning it to slush. I thought it would be a good time to move my small juniper outdoors rather than on a freezing day with snow. Now it can get in on winter like the man at the bonsai shop said it should. 

Just a few evenings ago, with the help of a couple tutorials, I got out my small shears and gave the tree a careful reimagining. Up to this point it was little more than a bent-over cutting in a pot that reached over the side quite a way. It looked sort of cool as it was but also disproportionate. It was also looking pretty bushy toward the base so I snipped off quite a bit to achieve the desired effect. Once the wiring was done, I was satisfied with the result. Now it looks more correctly like a miniature, like an old and wind-blown juniper one might find on a mountain crest.

House mama ran off with the guys to Welcome Collective as usual, leaving the young sprites in my charge. After she was gone, she wanted me to find a recipe for peppernuts and in looking for that I found the recipe for a legendary melt-in-your-mouth confection: Opera Creams. Every year towards Christmas, a plate of these show up in the office at my job back in Pennsylvania, compliments of coworker Ruth who has made them for years, and how we love them. Every year it's a marvel anew, biting into one of those (and then another and another). 

The creation of these creams is a simple but very particular one. She had written all the instructions down for me and yet I'd never tried it, until today. There are only five ingredients, in order of volume: sugar, cream, butter, cocoa, and vanilla. Cook the first four together until the sticky, bubbly mass reaches 236° precisely; pull it off the heat, stir in vanilla, and let it cool undisturbed. That all went as planned. I waited until it was below 95° before scooping it into the mixer bowl and turning the mixer on. After a minute the stuff seemed to become more slippery, maybe it was because of the butter. I beat it for a while after and it didn't change. I was starting to think of what I could do with a flop of this sort, when I had to leave a bit to put Alec back in bed. Julian turned the beater off meanwhile, and when I came back something had changed. I resumed the mixer and watched the miracle that happens at the right point in the process, when the candy loses its shine and the color lightens. All that's left is to quickly scoop it out with a spoon to drop on waxed paper. I got that done and we took the pans down to the garage to cool. And now -- you should taste one for yourself. They are divine.

Machinery rumbled though our neighborhood this morning, scraping and clearing snow. I had only heard about the snow removal procedures in Montreal, and now today we saw it for the first time. Once the snow and slush was scraped into a long row down our side of the street, along came an enormous snowblower accompanied by a truck. They led a procession of empty dump trucks, each outfitted with tall sides and waiting their turn to be filled with snow. The ensemble cleaned it up pretty good too, leaving only puddles and a little slush behind. 

The doorbell rang quarter to three, and in came Regan with his stuffed backpack and another bag, ready to head for the airport before long. There was a little time though to relax and try a few opera creams. The boys were excited to have him here and immediately jumped on the couch for story time, so he read Hop on Pop for them. They probably won't have a chance quite like that again. We soon piled in the van and were off to join the slow traffic flow down the island. I didn't mind having that extra time for chatting. When they left at the start of October, Regan knew he'd probably be coming back once the new family arrived; and now, who can say when the next time will be? Montreal is home, down to the ordinary things that were a part of life for two years; people, places, even walking along Rue Jarry. We discussed quite a few things on the way and later sang three or four French songs we know by memory. Along the curb at the terminal he said goodbyes to the boys while I grabbed his things out of the trunk. How they wanted him to stay. "I wish we could live together in this city forever, but there are other things to do in life," he said before we parted ways. "I guess in heaven we can."

Once the guys returned from their day abroad we went over to Darrel & Natalie's for supper. Such a good time! Then we got busy downstairs with all the supplies they had bought for baking all kinds of Christmas goodies. The guys worked on cinnamon hard candy, seasoned crackers, and chocolate covered pretzels while the ladies did peppernuts. Darrel and I spent some time mixing an enormous batch of poppyseed bread batter in a large bowl. It was a recipe times eight; sixteen cups of flour, for example. After that was blended it went into small loaf tins and we kept the oven busy for the next few hours. Time really ran away on us and before we knew it the day was almost expired. We all needed our rest, the little boys especially, so we called it good for now. Sabrina will return tomorrow and help bake a bunch of cookies yet.

The shortest day is coming, but these are the darkest evenings. Today's 4:10 p.m. sunset marks the end of a string of them on this island. From here the night will gradually come less early, though sunrises will come later until the solstice, when the daylight will total 8.7 hours that day according to timeanddate.com. 

When everyone was back from their activities we got ready and drove out into the cold, windy night. We parked behind the building where Welcome Collective is, rode up the elevator to the eighth floor, and were shone the way to the vacant section of that floor where a Christmas party was going on. There were small elf hats for Julian and Alec to wear. What a party it was! Liveliest one I've ever stepped into. People were everywhere, music was playing, and disco lights flashed colors all around. An uproarious round of musical chairs was underway, sort of fun to watch. A couple tables on the side were filled with food and drinks so we helped ourselves like the rest and mingled with the crowd. There was a good mix of Spanish, African, Haitian, and other ethnicities present. Everyone seemed to be in such a party mood and getting happier and happier. 

The main center of activity where the musical chairs ended and soon started over was under the swirling lights, near some glowing Christmas trees and a pile of gifts for children. Flavia, one of the head ladies of the organization, was in her element having a good time. We may have felt a little out of our element but it was fun all the same, and the guys enjoyed talking to the coworkers they've become friends with. Off to one side were some play things set up for children so our boys weren't too bored. Eventually various merrymakers and kids gathered under the disco lights to dance as the speakers continued blaring popular music clips. The atmosphere was never below 70 decibels, often nearer 80 (I have a handy app to check levels). Before long we gathered our things and stepped out into the tranquility of the hallway, rode the elevator back down, and dashed around the building through the biting wind to where we had parked. We visited the spacious Centre Rockland mall and found a couple things before going on home and snacking on some Christmas creations.

The city has lots of festive things to see and do nowadays. One feature drawing the crowds is the Great Montreal Christmas Market set up on the Place des Festivals, just around the corner from the Place des Arts metro station. The four of us set out around noon for some sightseeing and Christmas shopping. We made a couple stops, parked at Crémazie, and rode the metro downtown to the Place des Arts metro station. The underground sure was busy today. Aboveground it was sunny but well below freezing, and it didn't take us long to wish we had worn more layers. Outside the metro entrance was the sound of foreign music and it sure wasn't French. Palestine flags waved above the crowd gathered at a rally which we skirted around and soon found Place des Festivals. 

The charming Christmas market is an entire village of tiny chalets with all kinds of vendors, from jewelry and art to savory treats and steaming drinks. At one end we found a few fire pits. Some were gas but a couple were actual wood firepits smoking away. That's a rare thing, out of character for Montreal, you could say. We circled back to where lively harmonica music was being played, and worked out way to the exit at the end of the song. Our fingers and faces were well chilled so we decided to skedaddle and get indoors ASAP. We walked down past the rally and by now, a voice was yelling over a microphone to the people who repeated every line after him in an exotic sounding chant. The warmth of Complexe Desjardins was blissful to step into. 

We walked on to see the fountain below and all the sparkling lights. A winter display surrounds the fountain now, and not far away the carrousel was spinning around, full of children riding horses. We descended to that floor and soon found lunch in the noisy food court. The boys wanted a carousel ride but we had to go on to do a little shopping in the main part of the underground malls. We found pretty much all we needed at an Old Navy, including some new pajamas that Julian and Alec are stoked about. Close by was a woman playing a harp along with a soundtrack. It was very good playing, and she was all painted up and costumed to look like a winter woodland fairy of sorts. Also while we were in that mall we heard percussion coming from somewhere, and watched a couple moments as three drummers suited and masked as nutcrackers marched along the level below. 

By then it was around four so we rode the metro one stop back up to Place des Arts and found our way into Complexe Desjardins again. From 4:00 to 4:45 a small orchestra was playing on the stage near the fountain, and it was beautiful to listen to. Only a couple numbers were familiar Christmas carols or medleys. We watched a while from the level above, then Sabrina and Julian snuck down to see the carrousel closer and soon got in line for a ride. I joined them later and Alec went with them while I kept the stroller and stuff to one side, up near the musicians. For a couple dollars each, the boys got a magical carousel ride of their own. It looked like they were having the time of their lives, going up and down on the horses as the carousel spun. It all went smoothly until one mom, bless her heart, intended to step off and wait until the ride was finished. Somehow she careened into the control post and it crashed to the floor, disconnecting from its power source in the fall. The carousel went dark and came to a stop. The mom (and everything else too) was fine, and the ride soon resumed. 

After that we'd had enough for an afternoon. It was almost dark outdoors besides. The trains were full the whole way back to Crémazie, and it was good to be home by six for a change. 

There was a nice church service in the morning at our small chapel and we came home for one of those rare Sunday dinners where it's just us. We were on the road for Roxton Falls so early it wasn't even dark yet. (That might be the last time it happens while we're here.) Early enough to get to the church house in the woods shortly after 4:00 p.m. where a final Christmas program practice was underway. 

After getting things fine-tuned, pizza arrived at the door and we had supper together. Sabrina also used that interlude to unpack Chelsea's tote of art mushrooms. They are all quite fine! She found the one she had in mind, one with a large moon behind tree silhouettes on a black background, and made the transaction for her self-chosen Christmas present from me. 

Then around seven the sanctuary filled up with most of the congregation and some visitors who sang a couple songs together. We walked in after that and delivered our programme de Noël in that small, resounding sanctuary. I've said it before but if you've never visited Roxton Falls church on a Sunday, well you need to. Just regular congregational singing on Sundays, especially the French singing, makes the church ring. There are so many fine chanteurs in that crowd.

Our group totaled seventeen: five girls and five guys that make up the Roxton Falls youth group, the youth leaders (Alex & Adrianna, Gary & Chelsea), the CPS Montreal boys, and I. We gave a program of fourteen songs: eight in English, four rolling French carols, and two special groups. The French numbers were the highlights for me, and overall it was a magical program to be a part of. 

Hugues & Amy invited us to their home down in the village for snack afterwards. Thierry & Chandra and Gary's stepped in the door as well, so it was a good time! Hot teas, crackers and French cheeses, fruit, and even roasted chestnuts to try. That was a first for me and honestly I'm still not sure what to make of them. We had to go before long and pick up Tyler and Micah over at Alex & Adrianna's, then on we went along the frosty, moonlit roads we cruised back to the highway and off to a glowing city. 

Expectations of an ordinary day derailed when house mama called home. She and the guys were almost to Welcome Collective but her wallet was not. They'd taken the alternative transit route and she had almost missed getting off the first bus in time. That involved her wallet getting wedged under the door and it wouldn't come out right away, and the door kept trying to close. Tyler stood on the outside keeping his hand in the opening until she was able to retrieve the wallet and step off, quite embarrassed. 

The next bus ride passed in a regular fashion. She put her backpack under the seat and somewhere along the ride, the wallet softly plopped out unnoticed, so that it stayed on the 460 bus when she got off, and thus they parted ways. Later she checked through the bags they had with them and it was gone. Quelle horreur.

The three of us jumped in the Honda and drove by the bus stops not far away where they had switched lines, but it was nowhere. We returned home and I called STM, wondering if there would be a way to track it down. "It should show up at the lost and found at Berri-UQAM eventually," they said. "Usually it takes around 48 hours." I wondered how I could be sure. "That's only if someone is honest and gives it to the bus driver." I doubted it would ever get to Berri. 

A man and his two children were on the way to a school near Boulevard Lacordaire when they spied the portefeuille on the floor. The dad returned home with it and his wife checked the contents to try to determine how to find its owner. There were a couple possibilities, with a library card and a bank card inside.

We drove to Station Crémazie after that and sat in the parking lot under the Autoroute 40 to watch the buses that stopped by. If a 460 would come, I was going to run over there, jump on, and quick look for it. Time passed and a couple buses of other lines came and went. My idea grew less viable with the passing minutes. That particular route was a long one, and after all, buses switch to different routes after completion quite frequently I'm sure. Would that same bus come back around within a day, or even half a day? It could be anywhere in the city by now. Anyone could find the wallet and do anything with it. What were the chances of it passing in front of our noses? Maybe it had already. It's one thing just to lose a wallet, and sort of another to lose it in a city when you know it's probably still on the run going farther and farther away. No use in hanging out by Crémazie really, so we went home again. 

The home phone rang three times in our absence, and not much of a voice message was left besides a woman saying, "Allo? Allo?" and hanging up. Someone from the library was trying to get in touch.

Towards noon house mama let me know the wallet had been found. At least someone at a bank had called her number and told her where she could come pick it up. Only she couldn't, she was busy for the day, and forgot the place the man had told her. She gave him my number but I never got a call after that. She sent me the number on the caller ID and when I tried, it went to the voicemail of a Bank of Montreal worker. I found the name online and his bank branch so off we went again in high hopes. How neatly it was coming together.

The branch was in a neighborhood I've rarely been through if ever. Monsieur Sarseri was in his office and I quickly explained the situation. He knew nothing of a lost wallet, but some investigation revealed that the number I had called back on went to the Lacordaire branch of the bank, and that the wallet was probably there only I probably wouldn't be able to pick it up. She'd have to retrieve it herself. 

I went straight to that bank all the same, and then the whole thing got weird. I guess we had understood that we would find it at the bank, but the teller who knew the situation said that a lady had stopped in with a picture of Sabrina's ID and bank card, and by that he had looked up her profile and gotten her number. The lady didn't have the wallet with her but said she'd go home for it, and hadn't returned. Nor did she have an account at BMO so it's anyone's guess who she was. "It's really weird," said the teller.

Home again, we had a little late lunch and Alec took a nap. Sabrina returned by and by. Then right about 5:00 the telephone rang in the office but I wasn't quick enough to catch it. I heard the voicemail being left. "Allo? ... Allo?" I called the number back but it went to St. Léonard borough's central call system. I could be directed to a few places, including the library and the administrative offices. Someone answered at the offices but couldn't help me with the situation. He was very friendly and did what he could but found no leads for me. I figured new clues would be found tomorrow. 

Still later the CPS phone rang again and this time I was quick enough to catch Allo woman live on the line. She introduced herself and wanted to talk to Sabrina. She didn't speak English so I told her Sabrina didn't speak French, but I could try, so the librarian asked about a missing portefeuille and inside I said glory be. She gave a number and a name, Sarah, whom I should call. No, le portefeuille was not at the library; Sarah had it. I thanked her and dialed Sarah pronto. That conversation ended up being all in French, but she was relatively easy to understand. By the end we had a plan: meet at a market near Lacordaire/Jean Talon which was but two minutes from her apartment, and just eight from here. 

A mix of rain and snow had been falling for a while by the time I left in the Honda one more time, carefully out the slushy roads, thinking -- whew, if I didn't know a lick of French, there's no way we'd be any closer to finding the wallet. I parked by the market and redialed. She was just inside the entry with one of her children, waiting. I grabbed the Christmas goody box (one of those we made last week) and met her on the shadowy sidewalk. "Comment ça va?" she asked. Better now! I answered. 

She explained how she had visited first the library and then the bank, but didn't want to leave it at either place; she would worry about it ever after and wished rather to return it in person. "It is better that way!" She reached inside her coat and produced the wallet, briefly opening its zipper to show cash, cards, everything still inside it. Thank God. "May we give you a little gift?" I asked, trading for the wallet our Christmas box which she accepted with grace. 

We talked longer. I detailed where and when Sabrina had lost it and wondered where exactly it had been found, and she filled in her side of the story. I also learned that she moved from Algeria this past summer with her husband and two children. I didn't catch all the details she offered so I won't go spinning any tales, but in short it was a genial exchange, tout en français. We parted and I returned home with joy and a wallet scented with an exotic perfume.

So that's my long and dramatic story about a portefeuille that disappeared and came home within a day, and what transpired in between. 

This Friday was the last food distribution day of 2024 at Welcome Hall Mission. For the past few weeks it's been the Christmas Basket event, where the families receive extra items, including an entire frozen chicken or more depending on the family size. Each station generally has five items to give out, but for this special market most station was stocked with six. The three of us along with a couple other volunteers were runners, keeping stations supplied as the distribution rolled along. Usually that's plenty of runners, but today it seemed like we all stayed pretty busy. There were to be 32 appointments every half hour, so it's possible that upwards of 160 clients came through and left heavy-laden. 

We didn't have metro singing in the evening. Neither youth group was coming to help and what's more, the Roxton Falls school program was taking place so we opted to attend. The guys stayed home in the end and spent some of their evening downtown. We cruised out into the country and soon a light snow was falling, setting the tone for a magical evening. We arrived right on time. The church was full of neighbors and friends besides the congregants.

One fun tradition they have before the program starts is a little time given to preschoolers who might have something to share. A handful of youngsters traipsed up to the rostrum accompanied by one of the moms. She had her young daughter say something but it only came out after much coaxing, and after the shy, smiling face sank out of sight behind the rostrum's low wall. It's anyone's guess what she finally murmured in the end. Then the other children took their turns, a couple saying a verse or a rhyme and one four-year-old boy singing a solo. It was marvelous. 

The program followed and it was amazing to see and hear those eleven students of the Roxton school singing like they did. All and particularly some of them were relaxed and uninhibited in their delivery of songs and speaking parts. The students are divided nearly equally into two classes, and there's only one girl out of the bunch, in the upper grades. The harmony and volume were excellent all the same. 

Another fun tradition at the end of the program is handing out little snack bags to all the children present so that made a mild ruckus. Later there were tables and chairs set up in the back, and a couple tables loaded down with snacks and Christmas treats, and jolly socializing followed. We couldn't stay too long, of course, and soon packed up to go. Over the frosty church yard and woods lay a couple inches of powdery snow. It was so good to have come.

Chapter VIII

The leaves were falling from the great oak at the meadow’s edge. They were falling from all the trees.

One branch of the oak reached high above the others and stretched far out over the meadow. Two leaves clung to its tip.

“It isn’t the way it used to be,” said one leaf to the other.

“No,” the other leaf answered. “So many of us have fallen off to-night we’re almost the only ones left on our branch.”

“You never know who’s going to be next,” said the first leaf. “Even when it was warm and the sun shone, a storm or a cloudburst would come sometimes, and many leaves were torn off, though they were still young. You never know who’s going to go next.”

“The sun seldom shines now,” sighed the second leaf, “and when it does it gives no warmth. We must have warmth again.”

“Can it be true,” said the first leaf, “can it really be true, that others come to take our places when we’re gone and after them still others, and more and more?”

“It is really true,” whispered the second leaf. “We can’t even begin to imagine it, it’s beyond our powers.”

“It makes me very sad,” added the first leaf.

They were silent a while. Then the first leaf said quietly to herself, “Why must we fall?…”

The second leaf asked, “What happens to us when we have fallen?”

“We sink down…”

“What is under us?”

The first leaf answered, “I don’t know, some say one thing, some another, but nobody knows.”

The second leaf asked, “Do we feel anything, do we know anything about ourselves when we’re down there?”

The first leaf answered, “Who knows? Not one of all those down there has ever come back to tell us about it.”

They were silent again. Then the first leaf said tenderly to the other, “Don’t worry so much about it, you’re trembling.”

“That’s nothing,” the second leaf answered, “I tremble at the least thing now. I don’t feel so sure of my hold as I used to.”

“Let’s not talk any more about such things,” said the first leaf.

The other replied, “No, we’ll let be. But – what else shall we talk about?” She was silent, but went on after a little while, “Which of us will go first?’

“There’s still plenty of time to worry about that,” the other leaf assured her. “Let’s remember how beautiful it was, how wonderful, when the sun came out and shone so warmly that we thought we’d burst with life. Do you remember? And the morning dew, and the mild and splendid nights….”

“Now the nights are dreadful,” the second leaf complained, “and there is no end to them.”

“We shouldn’t complain,” said the first leaf gently. “We’ve outlived many, many others.”

“Have I changed much?” asked the second leaf shyly but determinedly.

“Not in the least,” the first leaf assured her. “You only think so because I’ve got to be so yellow and ugly. But it’s different in your case.”

“You’re fooling me,” the second leaf said.

“No, really,” the first leaf exclaimed eagerly, “believe me, you’re as lovely as the day you were born. Here and there may be a little yellow spot but it’s hardly noticeable and only makes you handsomer, believe me.”

“Thanks,” whispered the second leaf, quite touched. “I don’t believe you, not altogether, but I thank you because you’re so kind, you’ve always been so kind to me. I’m just beginning to understand how kind you are.”

“Hush,” said the other leaf, and kept silent herself for she was too troubled to talk any more.

They they were both silent. Hours passed.

A moist wind blew, cold and hostile, through the tree-tops.

“Ah, now,” said the second leaf, “I….” Then her voice broke off. She was torn from her place and spun down.

Winter had come.

♦ ♦ ♦

Taken from

Bambi: A Life in the Woods

Felix Salten, 1923

As we had arranged, Keith & Karen Wedel and all their family came to the city Sunday evening for a special metro singing. Their three married daughters were home for Christmas: Bethany & Doyle Doerksen, Cartwright, MB; Nicole & Levi Schmidt, Ronan, MT; Starla & Brandon Peachey, Belleville, PA. (Their fourth daughter Andrea just turned 19 and still lives at home.) Steve & Shandele Penner and their family also came for the singing. They have one married daughter, Shanay & Drake Hodgson, from Alexandria, and four other children: Jackson, Tara, Thomas, and Carson. Marie-Josée showed up to surprise us and it was fabulous having grand-mére around for the evening. 

Place des Arts was a good choice for the outing. I had booked the spot a week ago and even then, most of the afternoon was already reserved by others. The station was full of people when we arrived and hardly emptied out all the next hour. We pulled out the Christmas binders and flooded the station with ringing carols. I've never seen so much interest, so many people stopped to enjoy the music, so much appreciation showed. For that matter it was a record collection in the box where folks toss money; Micah counted up $125 and change. That included a fifty-dollar bill -- obviously someone was feeling the spirit. It was stellar singing though. The music followed Julian and I to the end of a corridor with remarkable clarity. We sang through most of the songs in the binder and ended on one of the first ones we had sung, the French version of All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name. 

A lot of the group found the way outdoors and up to where the Christmas market is, for a quick run-through in the bitter cold. A lot of the chalets were closed up for the night already so there wasn't all that much to see. We hurried back underground and headed home where we hosted quite the house full. It was a wonderful time spent with all those good folks and definitely among the most memorable of metro singing evenings. 

Monday, and it's just about Christmas. House mama had a lot to do of course and kept busy all the day. The little boys kept busy as well getting into stuff and one could say the day had more a feel of "stress on earth" rather than "peace." I took them on a drive and ran to Super C for some groceries (it feels like I've spent the recent portion of my life just running places and buying stuff). After that I picked up a handful of disposable metro passes at Station St. Michel in preparation for the coming activities. This gave house mama a good hour of quietness in which she flew around scrubbing all manner of surfaces, mainly floors and cupboards, but when she get's on a roll there's ever so many more things that could quickly be cleaned as well so who knows. 

After a little lunch at home we all made a run to our favorite IGA for one final round of groceries. I asked her, "Do I have your word that we won't do any more shopping after this even if we forget something this time?" She affirmed. The children were unusually agreeable this time so it was, dare I say, a relaxing experience. Upon getting home we did find one item still on the list: paper plates. And as we absolutely can't do without those, I did run to Dollarama for that yet. Let the good times begin. 

We tracked their progress on live location as the two vehicles from Pennsylvania navigated northward. Then they were across the border, then on the island, and in time were moving along our boulevard and into our neighborhood streets. Randall & Jessica and baby Lillie arrived first, and folks with Carlos, Gerald, and Jeff were about a half hour after them. It was a lively time at 5385, Julian and Alec were bouncing off the walls to be with grandpa's and uncles again. For a while we waited on Tyler and Micah to return from their volunteering to have supper, but since there were fewer workers at the soup kitchen, the guys ended up working later than normal and came home toward nine. Meanwhile we gathered around for Indian butter chicken, rice, and naan breads aplenty and filled right up. There was more general hanging out together and then Randall's headed out into a sparkling snowstorm to find their way to Darrel's where they'll be spending their nights.

Inches of fine snow fell overnight so everyone had their white Christmas in Montreal. The déneigement (snow removal) crews were busy early in the morning already as well as nearby neighbors plying their shovels as I cleared our portion. The air sparkled faintly whenever the sun peeped out. It was good to warm up inside at the stove pouring and flipping the crepes for breakfast. Eventually we all bundled up well and drove to Station Crémazie to park under the 40 and ride the metro downtown. 

Old Montreal was the first objective. We came aboveground at Station Champ de Mars and crossed the hill to the large Jacques Cartier Square, stopping by the only booth permanently on that plaza, a maple shack. Some of the guys (and then Julian too) got fresh maple taffy, boiling syrup poured out over ice and rolled up on a stick. At the bottom of the square we turned down Rue St. Paul; it didn't look like there'd be anything to see down nearer the river. The snow and brown frozen slush made a crunchy sound under our boots as though we were walking on cornstarch. On that exploration of Rue Saint Paul we stepped into a handful of shops, some of them I'd never been in before, and found some cool stuff in Artisans Canada. It was nice to have the cobblestone street restoration finished along the stretch where during the summer had been fences and temporary walkways. 

Farther than we usually wander down St. Paul were a couple more neat shops: Olive & Gourmando, Maison Pepin. Maison Pepin is a large home & decor store in a charming, ancient stone building. Right outside is an alley that is decked out every Christmas with a different theme and is quite a photo op for tourists. We stepped out into the frosty air and trekked back up in the direction of Nick's shop, as we call it. Its real name is Boutique de souvenirs MTL. It's hardly different from many of the other such shops that line the street but it's a CPS favorite. The owner is from Bangladesh and what's more he owns one of our church's mission houses over there so he's been acquainted with our people for years. He knows how to keep our business; whenever we visit his shop he gives discounts and maple cookies. Some of our group made purchases and by then all were feeling hungry, so we visited a restaurant next door offering beaver tails and poutine. Sufficiently warmed and filled we headed next to Le Petit Dep, one of Sabrina's favorite cafés. We gave Place d'Armes (the square in front of the cathedral) little more than a walk-through on our way down to the warmth of the Palais de Congres. Pretty much from then on we were indoors, spending some time at the leaping fountain in the bustling court of Complexe Desjardins.

Then it was a short walk over to Le Grand Marché de Noël de Montréal, a Christmas village set up on the Place des Festivals. We mingled with the crowds, got some hot drinks, listened to some lively music on strings, and got steadily colder as evening came on and all the lights glowed brighter. For a while our number was scattered a few different directions so by the time we regrouped and sought the underground, the plaza was something to see. We decided it would be in our best interest to head straight home from there to thaw out. We had a traditional Pennsylvania Dutch meal to boot: bean soup, apple moon pies, baby Swiss cheese, sweet Lebanon bologna, and those savory heirloom pickles known back home as "church pickles." The moon pies were fresh from an Amish neighbor woman back home and though in her mind they were a flop because of a small detail she'd missed, they tasted no different to us. Those got heated on pans in the oven for a warm side to the soup. There was just a little French influence present in the meal, thanks to the baguettes purchased here a day or two before. A good and satisfying supper. 

We did our gift exchange after that so it was a merry time of unwrapping and surprises. I'm not sure what all everyone gave whom but I'll list a few gifts. From Jess I received an Appalachian poetry collection, a Strange Planet 2025 calendar (a delight, if you know me), and a colorful hardcover book titled The Elements of Pizza. Tyler gave Sabrina a woven reed basket, a small pillow, coffee, and a maple candle. The little boys of course got a bunch of treats, enough that they didn't know what to do with it all. Julian especially liked a little toy man with a silk parachute from uncle Jeff. We hung around afterward, some playing games, some yakking, Micah crafting tiramisu for tomorrow, and I devouring the whole poetry collection in one sitting. I'll definitely be reading it again.

We gathered for a light breakfast of scones and bacon. Some of the guys including Tyler and Micah were enthused with taking an icy plunge into the recycle bin that had been set out and filled the night before. I was fine staying indoors. The neighbor man right across the street who comes out to smoke periodically anyway was there to witness the strange activities. What he thought is anyone's guess. Later in the morning, Micah got the charcoal grill fired up on the patio and prepared steaks for lunch. That wasn't all his participation in the Christmas dinner besides the tiramisu for dessert; later he pan fried a bunch of scallops. Other sides included vegetable casserole, green salad, fruit salad, potatoes au gratin, and even graham cracker fluff. There was more than plenty of food for all. 

Darrel & Natalie and their children joined us for dinner and the rest of the day. The little boys had Ariella and Chaz, and cousin Lillie to make noise with. Marie-Josée came from Roxton Falls too, as she's part of the family, la grand-maman. Of course she had gifts for the little boys: a badminton set, a couple books of French children's songs with accompanying CD's, a small plush owl. There was another bag of gifts for Sabrina and I to open later, including warm leggings for house mama and a book on bonsai in French for me, quelle surprise! 

A highlight of the afternoon was having Cal & Chrissy Krahn and his mother Betty stop by to see us all. Cal & Chrissy, part of the Pentecostal Assemblies of Canada, have spent many years in Montreal by now doing mission work and she volunteers with us at Welcome Hall Mission, a very fun and friendly soul. They both grew up in Abbotsford, BC, and if you want to know something else, Betty knew some of Tyler's Friesen kin from around there. Interesting connections! So we had a good time together before they moved on, and Chrissy was delighted to take home some apple moon pies and a small assortment of whoopie pies (another PA Dutch treat). Having had her fill of noise and cheer, Marie-Josée disappeared at some point during the afternoon. The kitchen table stayed occupied with a lengthy game of Settlers of Catan all afternoon and into the evening. 

Then for our outing of the day we bundled up and drove to Mont Royal. Leaving the comfort of our vehicles we crunched over the well-packed trail that leads to the overlook and got to see the city glowing before us in the darkness. It was the first time for my folks; I guess on other visits this year and seven years ago I hadn't brought them here for some reason. And as they may never have reason to return to this city, they took their time to appreciate the panorama. It was brittle though, somewhere around 12° F. Dad and Mom rode with us in the Pilot and on the way home we detoured past the magnificent St. Joseph's Oratory which stands on one of Mont Royal's slopes. 

Back home, the ladies spread a light charcuterie supper on the table and the socializing continued. Some of the time after that Sabrina and I were busy packing up stuff to send home to PA, to lighten our own return trip in a few months. What a relief to know our Ford Edge won't be packed like the piñata it was on the drive here last March. A tiny sense of bittersweet lingered throughout the activity. In one thought: are we this close to going home? In another: could we somehow sneak along and ride back to a land we love? But no, it is good to be here. We helped fill Randall's pickup bed with stuff and said goodbyes to them as they wouldn't be back after this. 

The family gathering seemed to end on a quieter note. Tyler was already feeling ill from something that had started by last weekend. My folks had some bug prior to coming to Montreal. We all needed rest after those few busy days. Folks with Carlos, Gerald, and Jeff were heading south by 6:30. All the trees of the neighborhood and beyond were laced with hoarfrost so it must've been a scenic drive out Thursday morning. Most of us were up to see them off but we went back to bed for a few more hours. Then house mama had lots of cleaning and laundry to fill the day. We didn't see much of Tyler that day, nor much of the next. 

The hoarfrost was even heavier on Friday morning and the sky was a soft gray. It must have been some smog, according to the weather app. We eased around for another late breakfast. I did a couple end-of-month errands, running to the bank and then to Jean Coutu to refill our monthly metro passes. Then in the afternoon the four of us and Micah drove downtown to see the enormous new Royalmount luxury mall which opened nearly four months ago. Driving around in the parking garages below, it looked like half the city must be there. The constant roar inside the mall was something like ten percent store music and ninety percent voices in different languages. 

There was much to see. Most everything in there is high end stuff for the rich folks. Different boutiques looked relatively empty, with just a few racks along the walls holding exotic garments, or some brightly lit shelves holding swanky bags and shoes. We were glad to find a chocolate shop but realized there too it was luxury chocolate, fun to look at if nothing else. In that mall there's a Sports Experts at least, and probably a few more like that to service a broader clientele. I enjoyed checking out some fragrance stores and sniffing colognes of different names that I've only read about, including the British house Penhaligon (worn by royals past and present). Those bottles sell for hundreds of dollars. There were also two Tesla vehicles for the public to experience, apart from driving of course, a new Tesla car and a Cybertruck. We sat inside the Cybertruck together for a few moments of marvel. What futuristic things they come up with nowadays! 

Much later than planned we met up with Micah and Julian again and left Royalmount with one more stop to make: @Matcha. Sabrina meant only to return the small glass bottle and get a drink to go, but all the drinks he offers to go are cold ones in glass bottles, so we came home with two more to return some other time. Sabrina chose a rich, creamy matcha drink and Micah got a "sesamatcha," something involving sesame product I believe. I stayed with the little boys in the Pilot to wait. We were running wildly out of time as there was metro singing yet and it was nearly dark. Wait, we stopped by Sami Fruits yet because Sabrina needed to make a salad for supper.

Thankfully Tyler was feeling better by evening so we all went to metro singing. We parked at St. Michel and rode down the island to meet the Alexandria group at Station Namur. It was handy for them because they usually park at this station to ride to wherever the singing is, so they didn't have to buy any passes or ride the trains this time. Supper was at church. Phil & Brenda Wiebe filled in as youth leaders so it was a good time with them. A couple visitors were along too. I talked to the 19-year-old guy from Florida and was interested to learn he has his name in to serve a term in Montreal, and he will likely come next summer. The youth played games after supper so the four of us left not too late and the guys brought the bus home. 

I had a sore throat by then and Saturday morning it wasn't any better. My only venture out was to the barber along Viau for a nice cut by the older Italian, Gino. Normally I don't hear him talk much but some of his friends came in and soon they were having some kind of a lively conversation or argument in Italian. I stayed put at home after that with growing fatigue and some odd sensations. Here and now on Saturday evening the rest of the CPS family seem to be ok, and Tyler and Micah are still abroad on their jaunt through the city.

I didn't know what Sunday was going to be like, the way I was by Saturday night, but by some miracle we had a short window of time where we all were feeling relatively normal. That window lasted from Sunday morning to Sunday evening, enough time to go to church and be blessed with the inspirations shared. We were a good size group so the singing was great besides. Enough time to take up Dmitri & Luba's gracious invite for Sunday dinner. 

Poor Dmitri, I looked at him so blankly after the service when he said to me, "So you're coming over to our place for dinner." Sabrina had lunch in the oven back home and remembered the invite during the church service. No matter how I tried, I couldn't recall her telling me about the invite a week and maybe a little more ago. "Before Christmas" was now a different era altogether. We were definitely game for the idea but had to run home first to turn off the oven, then navigated down the island on the wet roads and fog created by the incoming warm spell. 

The Deev's apartment building sits right across the interchange from the Royalmount mall we just visited. I made a couple errors in driving and we ended up looping around a bit through that tangle of exits and bridges (not only the outdoors was foggy, but my brain a little too) until finally we coasted down a quieter street and parked in a mound of slush. 350 Rue Crevier, the number was on the lobby door. Finding our way beyond that was a bit hilarious. Inside that first door is a panel of numbered buttons but I had no idea which one would buzz Dmitri's apartment. We stood there uncertainly and one of the little boys rang someone on the seventh level. About then some folks came out through the second door which we couldn't get through otherwise so we stepped inside, hearing a voice from the seventh floor come through the speaker as the door closed. My phone refused to place a call to Dmitri but Tyler had better luck. "We're number 500," Dmitri said. We found the elevator. Julian and Alec love elevators, especially the buttons, and promptly the call button was pushed right away. A recorded message played twice and then someone came on, who was quickly told there wasn't an emergency after all. We stepped into the echoing hallway on the fifth floor and the boys ran to try the nearest door. Wait, that's not the right one! 504. Over here? No, that's 502. 

The door to apartment 500 opened as we approached and Dmitri welcomed us into their small apartment. The living space was partly taken up by a couple large suitcases in preparation for their annual winter vacation in Spain; they own an apartment there too. There were large paintings on the walls and Russian crafts displayed on shelves, and a crowd of those wooden nesting dolls lined up behind glass along with other treasures. The plump gray cat kept hidden under the couch and made only a couple appearances. Julian and Alec were fascinated by its "cat tree" near the window and could hardly keep from climbing it themselves. Alec got stuck a couple times in a lightweight fabric tunnel that just wasn't big enough for little boys. The apartment used to have a view of a side of Mont Royal and the Oratory but that's gone thanks to another new apartment building of recent construction, so there really isn't much to see from there anymore. 

Luba and Anna were busy preparing things in the kitchen. Dmitri pulled a couple chairs around and we guys talked some while we waited. Dmitri & Luba moved from Moscow nearly thirty years ago. Back then he "saw the way things were going to go" with the country, and with the way things are now over in their homeland I can only imagine their thankfulness. Anna, their only child, was born and raised here in Montreal.

Soon we crowded around the table and enjoyed Anna's spicy chili soup over rice. Ah, but she could hardly bring herself to accept compliments for the good food she had made. Luba fussed around making sure we were getting enough. Then in the style of their culture, that first course was followed by a second of six or seven different Russian salads, very colorful ones served in shallow bowls that we passed around. I have no idea what was in them all but various ones had cabbage and some had meat. Very good flavors, very interesting. 

Then that was cleared away and it was time for some hot tea before dessert. A bowl of small chocolates and a tin of assorted dried fruit appeared on the table. And soon for dessert there came a carrot cake. It was a good time together. Anna was more talkative toward the end of the meal. It's always fun hearing her insights on anything in general and I guarantee, it's hard to remember she's only sixteen (a very mature and educated sixteen, what with knowing three languages, reading extensively, and traveling a lot in her life). She is artistic too, and was embarrassed to have left hanging one of her drawings that she'd done for an exposition, making disparaging comments about how it had turned out. We didn't see any flaws in the work; we saw a wide-eyed young lady with an elegant hat gazing at us from the frame, a very skillful drawing contradicting Anna's opinions. Anna has an interest in portraits and has done a few of those too. 

We soon took our leave, managing to get out of there without the little boys breaking anything, which almost happened while putting on Alec's shoes. Back at the elevator, some little sprite pushed the emergency button again so the ride down was much the same as the ride up with a call to an assistant's desk. We sprinted through the rain to the Pilot and I managed to not take a correct ramp when while navigating the maze of bridges and exits. That fog though!

It being the fifth Sunday evening, we had no plans. Matthew and Jeremy invited our guys out for supper so it was just the four of us at home. The providential window of time where we all felt relatively well slammed shut and house mama was knocked out with a stomach bug for the night. 

Tyler and Micah had the most normal day of us all. Their Monday activities were unchanged: go clean church, go visit the elderly folks they see in the afternoon, serve supper at the soup kitchen in the evening. Back home, house mama was down for the day so I did what I could to help the situation, including going out on a drive three different times to leave her a quiet house and keep the boys entertained. With temperatures in the lower forties and rain melting the snow away, it felt a tiny bit like spring and I personally was enthused. 

The Pilot was almost out of gas, so we made a trip out of it in the morning. 

Later we jumped in the van again and visited our favorite IGA for a few groceries, then went to the library to return and borrow more books, then on to the nearby automatic car wash. The boys really love going on a ride through this "slap wash." A few weeks back I signed up for a monthly pass for something like thirty-six bucks. (A single wash is around fourteen, and with a pass, you can get a wash every day of the month if you desire. And keeping the undercarriage clean during the salt season is a must.) The stream of vehicles through that place during open hours never ends. We got in line and crept to the entrance around back where you pull onto the conveyor, shift to neutral, and enjoy the ride. 

It's all a marvel to the boys, the van getting squirted and sprayed from all directions, dribbled with colorful soapy foam, slapped by the long hanging strips and bopped by the great spinning red things, then the spot-free rinse spritz followed by the roaring blowers at the end. Then at the doorway is the friendly man who pulls out everyone's passenger mirrors pushed in during the wash, and he always looks in with a big smile and waves to the boys. Every visit I forget to time the ride -- it has got to be the quickest automatic I've been through. 

The three of us left home one more time, in search of a McDonald's that has a play place. The boys were impatient to go play but agreed to eat most of their small meals and didn't even spill their juice. (One cup came perilously close to emptying when Julian plopped it down upon a stray fry, and behold, it decided to right itself, coming to rest on an angle with the fry underneath. I just had to look at that for a moment.) The play area was smaller than expected but the boys still had fun running around with a few other kids. After that we drove to a home improvement store where I found copper wire to replace some rusty wire currently on my juniper bonsai. We returned home sometime after nine and were glad to find house mama doing much better. The boys ran around a while and I spent some time rewiring my miniature trees, then it was bedtime for us all. 

This entry could be titled, "How We Didn't Celebrate the New Year." Thank goodness Sabrina felt better than yesterday because Alec did not. 

I left first thing in the morning to take Tyler and Micah out to Steve Penner's in Roxton where they would work out in the maple woods and stay for the night and the next day. I returned pronto to the city, a little disappointed that access to a tiny mountain farther south was closed for the winter. I detoured to Mont Saint Grégoire in hopes of spending a couple hours hiking alone but that never materialized, gates barred the road to the trailhead. I skirted the mountain, seeing at least the vast orchards with their picturesque buildings and also some maple shacks, and cruised back to the city. 

The boys were glad to see me and we played some ping pong downstairs. It wasn't long though and Alec began a string of barfing episodes upstairs. Honestly I was glad nobody else had to be around during those stressful hours. Then he was hungry and thirsty but never could keep it down for long, suddenly there would be another splash on the floor. Here, then there, then somewhere else; he scored every room on the main floor. Soiled clothes and blankets filled the hamper in record time. And how many baths did the poor boy have? 

Early on, Sabrina was in touch with Natalie and plans of hanging out in the evening were canceled. The Ensz children were'nt faring too well themselves so why make the whole situation worse for both our families? Sabrina was sad to miss socializing and reminded me of New Year's Eve a year ago, when 2023 turned into 2024 with us heading to the ER with a dreadfully croupy Julian. This didn't seem much better. 

But it is what it is -- let the rest of Montreal head out for a night on the town, with celebrations down by the river and countless wild parties to pass the night away; we're staying put at 5385. 

"Bonne année" to you all!