Fevrier 2025

Sunday, and a blizzard to add interest to the day of rest. I awoke expecting a good layer on the ground already but new accumulation was minimal, but the snowfall was beginning. We prepared as usual and joined Darrel & Natalie at the mission for a church service. Emile was already there. The scheduled folks from Alexandria and Roxton Falls wisely stayed put out in their territories so it was just us and Emile until Louis popped in toward the end of Sunday school. After that different inspirations were shared, first by Darrel, then Micah, then I, and Riley at the last. 

The snow and wind were getting pretty serious outdoors by the time we left. On the way home we stopped in a line of traffic at a light near a Shell gas station, where a taxi had unsuccessfully turned in to refuel. The guys jumped out and I pulled aside, then joined them after a bit and finally the gentleman was on his way. The roads were growing deep, especially in the neighborhood. It was nice to back into the warm safety of the garage and be at home again. 

I don't know how much snow fell around us -- there was so much wind all day it was hard to tell. Drifts grew rapidly and the wind sculpted some really artful ones, especially where I didn't want them. Dry snow can go anywhere on a good wind so a bit piled up inside the tempo too. A small drift even formed inside the outer kitchen window, through some small crack or the drainage hole on the bottom maybe.

This article says that while single-day snowfall records were not broken with these back to back storms, it's the most snowfall within a four day period on record since 1941, measuring 75 cm or 2.46 ft. It was a wild storm out there while we ate our dinner and spent time indoors. Alec went for a nap and I did the same before long. Sabrina and the guys decided to venture out to St. Joseph's Oratory and take Julian along so they did. It turned out to be an ordeal involving wading through snow, waiting on delayed buses, going on long rides, and finally deciding to turn around when they were about there. 

I called to see where they were at a couple hours after they left, and no, the were still on the way. She had hoped to go over to Darrel's for the evening but at this rate that didn't seem possible. It for sure looked impossible when I plopped Alec in the Pilot, jumped in myself, opened the garage door, and saw an impenetrable wall of snow along our portion of sidewalk. I wasn't about to blast through it and damage the front end, and I certainly wouldn't be able to clear a path soon. I did a little shoveling while Alec was still in the van. I gave him some fruit gummies to enjoy while I scooped snow out of the tempo and some off the porch and steps. Indoors again, I followed instructions to prepare some dough for beavertails (super-popular Canadian pastry, basically a whole wheat frybread covered in cinnamon sugar). It had a good long while to rise until the rest of the household stomped in the door after their handful of hours abroad. A lesson to learn, I suppose: the best way to deal with a blizzard in Montreal is simply to stay put. 

We heated oil in the deep fryer yet, rolled out oblong pieces of dough, fried them good, then covered them generously with cinnamon sugar. It was a nice warm treat to end the day. 

The cold day started out fair and grew quite cloudy through the afternoon and evening. The next snowstorm wouldn't be coming until tomorrow, so why not get out and do something together? We are becoming increasingly aware of the few weekends that remain for us in Montreal, and there are some things to prioritize.

One of them was skating on the refrigerated rink beside Beaver Lake on Mont Royal. Sure, we came one night all together after a savory Caribbean supper, but we wanted to return and rent small skates for the boys, so we did that today. We waited a little in the parking lot for a spot, then joined the crowd inside the pavilion, sort of like a large, noisy locker room slightly moist and smelling of melted snow and stockinged feet. We got in the line for skate rentals (they do skis too), obtained four pairs, then found a corner to put the blades on. Sabrina waited to get hers on, then ended up never using them at all, as she kept busy with Alec on the ice keeping him upright. She presently went back inside and to rent a lightweight tube frame for little tykes to hold on to and push while getting a feel for skating. Alec loved that. Both boys squeezed inside that thing to coast around for a little while. Sometime in there the workers got everyone off the ice so two tractors with Zamboni things mounted on the backs could go on and clean the surface. We spent a little more time out there yet but the way my skates were killing my slowly-freezing feet, I just couldn't last much longer. I was given the right size no doubt, but as it often is with skates, the soles seemed to have little support where there should be. I decided the extra room in the toe was probably for a small heat pack which I didn't have. 

She spent a little time on the rink with Julian while I pulled off my stuff and Alec's in the pavilion. He had fun playing with some other young children around his age while we waited for the others. Sabrina never did skate then, saying the most enjoyable part was helping the boys anyway, so we called it good. We thawed ourselves on the way over Mont Royal and down to the streets again to find @ Matcha. It looked like there would be no place to park with all the snow piled along the streets. Others had parked in front of the tea shop before us though so it was leveled a bit with tracks through it. We drifted into there and parked pretty securely. I wasn't sure if we'd get out. While we drank some good matchas by the window we watched as a couple other vehicles came and went, getting themselves stuck for a time in the process. The tea shop was another thing on the bucket list, with the intent to buy one of Nestor's dreamy landscape paintings. They are very nice paintings -- but right then I wasn't feeling like they were quite $120-cool, to me, so I saved instead for some other items on my radar. The drinks were good as always and I was glad to spin and drift the Pilot right out of the snow trap in just a few tries. 

Meanwhile, Micah and Riley spent some time at Marc's sugar shack if I have it right, and then made the long trek to Alexandria with Matthew and Jeremy for afternoon hockey and the evening. We didn't hear them return home that night. 

I'm one who likes Valentine's Day and the bit of a bright spot it puts into the middle of winter. Why not celebrate love after all.

At Welcome Hall Mission, clients begin coming through the lines at 9:00. Usually a good number are there waiting already after having checked in. The hour beforehand is mostly busy with volunteers arriving and getting the stations filled up with things. At about five to nine, Adrianna rings her bell and gives her usual speech, mentioning new volunteers if there are any, and anything we may need to know. A couple other staff ladies were on the floor during that time and when Adrianna was done, Milena had a good bit to say in French. I forget what it was all about but I know I understood most of it. She had three gift bags to hand out and drew names for those from a basket. Micah's name was the first to be drawn so he got a gift bag. After those were given out, the ladies handed out dark chocolate to the rest of us. Then the market was on a roll. 

I liked to rub it in later about our guys getting to hang out with a bunch of university girls on Valentine's Day morning. A good group of students from McGill University showed up to help with the market so there were plenty of volunteers. Four girls maybe, and three guys or so, all foreign exchange students to boot so they were all from different places like France, Greece, Germany, and others. That always makes for really interesting discussions. I was stationed at #7 for the shift and at #6 was a friendly guy named Anders, very tall, messy brown hair, dark brown eyes, a fine smile. "I'm from Brussels, Belgium," he told me. But he's not Belgian really. "My parents are Greek and Swedish." 

He listed off for me the languages he speaks. "Greek was my first language. I know Swedish, French, English, and Spanish." Also: Anders is only 23. 

"How old were you by the time you knew all those languages?" I wondered. 

"I knew four languages when I was young, I was pretty good in English by ten. That was it for a while, then a few years ago I learned Spanish." 

Anders is a prime example of those people I will forever envy. I told him so and it seemed like he couldn't catch my reason. "Well, you can go pretty much anywhere around the earth, being able to communicate like that," I explained.

He wondered how many languages I know. I laughed. "English, and a little French."

He didn't minimize that though. "Well, it makes sense, the US and Canada are huge countries compared to the small European ones. Over there I am limited if I don't know several languages." 

He wondered at the fact that I've never been outside of either of these countries. Why not? "I guess I just haven't," I said. Financial excuses and language barriers I guess. He pointed out that economical flights can indeed be found connecting faraway places, if you know where to look for them. He described his recommended itinerary for a vacation in Greece, spending time on idyllic islands away from tourist-invaded spaces, and of course not just visiting one region per day. Why not spend four or five days there and get a feel of the culture? I think if I ever got serious about visiting Greece I should just ask him to plan it for me. "That sounds amazing, I'd love to do that."

It might sound like we talked all morning but that's a rundown of most all conversation I had with him. The older guy on #5 was rapped out with Anders a lot more than I was. It was busy and the morning passed right by. 

On the way home I stopped in at the Jean Coutu on the corner and picked up a nice rose bouquet from the narrow buckets crowded on the floor toward the checkout. Before, I had entertained the thought of visiting a classy or popular fleuriste for some Valentine's blooms but why do that when the pharmacy has them for less? These roses were nearly to their prime, plump and velvety-red. For some reason when I bury my nose in the richness of the petals, often I feel like I should take a big bite. 

We sang at Station Lucien-L'Allier in the evening. That's one of those really deep stations, where you ride up three escalators to find the singing spot, and there's one more up to the exit. First it was just us there, then Dietrich showed up (I told him I'd stop telling him goodbye, the way he keeps reappearing), with Jackson and Tara. With the help of those three we had a pretty good singing group to start off with and the place rang marvelously. Darrel's joined us after a time and more of the Roxton group showed up by increments. A lot of folks went by throughout the singing but it seemed fewer than normal paid any mind. There was a general Friday night/Valentine's vibe in the air, evidenced by the roses and random couples that came by among the crowds. A few couples seen through the evening looked suspiciously like mere youngsters too, a sight which made us think, poor children, who are you trying to kid? 

Darrel was kept company toward the last by some older guys. The first had stopped to listen a while and Darrel had some ordinary conversation with him, but the second kept rattling to Darrel in French and then singing some random freestyle songs. We packed up after that and made our ways over to the mission house for supper.

We got the tables all decked out with Valentine's stuff, complete with the rose bouquet from Jean Coutu in the center. There were pink napkins at each place, glittery hearts and Hershey kisses scattered down the table, and Natalie created some strawberry cream sodas in plastic goblets for everyone. She served a good white chili for supper. I'd brought along my handcrafted dark chocolates and a few tried them out. Dietrich seemed to like them especially and he ended up taking the few remaining ones home with him. We talked a lot about making dark chocolate. He's as intrigued as I with the whole idea. Too bad there isn't time and we could get together to make some more. 

I'm not sure what, but our Valentine's party seemed to get the youth into quite the mood. After supper they gathered behind the pulpit to sing in quite lively fashion, and some of the songs were wedding selections from the hymnal. They even had a small pretend wedding going on, and if I have the facts right, the "couple" consisted of Anna and Julian. I didn't see all the proceedings (I had my back turned and was busy talking to Kevin Penner) but it sounded wild. It was fun hearing Anna's take on the evening after everyone else had gone their ways and before Darrel's gave her a ride home. (It's good to have her back, after her annual month-long family vacation in Spain.) Obviously she knows what youth in other, liberal churches like to talk and laugh about, so she was getting her kicks out of Mennonite youth enjoying their "church-approved jokes." 

It was a late night by the time it was all over. Micah and Riley came back to the house before we did and picked up some things, heading on to Roxton Falls for the night with the Toews boys, so it was just us at home for the night and all the next day. 

Thursday: my first serious attempt at crafting chocolat noir.

One day a couple weeks back we were on a search for wheat for house mama and Natalie to grind, and ended up at a bulk food store around ten kilometers from home. This was our second visit to this store and I wanted to check out something she had seen in there the first time around: cacao beans and nibs (chopped up beans). Well, she gathered a few bags of whole grains while I selected a bag of the nibs, and then we browsed the other aisles to see what all their shelves held. Besides whole grains, there was a wide variety of dried fruit, candy, trail mixes, and all that in bulk, with organic and gluten free sections somewhere in there. The bag of cacao nibs sat unopened for a while back home.

First off, one thing I learned in my research on this topic was that it's called "cacao" in the raw state, and once roasted, the beans are referred to as "cocoa." 

I did some searching for instructions on making dark chocolate from nibs. While I wasn't starting from the very beginning, cracking open a cacao pod and scooping out the beans to dry, starting with crushed beans was still ealier in the game than the method of dark chocolate making I had tried in the past, where one combines cocoa powder with coconut oil and honey on a stovetop. That finished product needed to be kept in a fridge, as it would soften at room temperature.

It was Tuesday that I first opened the bag and breathed in a delightful odor. I weighed out 175g and spread these rich brown colored pieces in a thin layer on a baking sheet, as they were in fact still raw. Then they went in the oven to toast for a dozen minutes and filled the kitchen with a scent quite like brownies. Back out of the oven I scooped them back into the bowl and weighed the amount again. It seemed to have lightened a few grams from the toasting. I pulled out the blender then, added an appropriate amount of granulated sugar, and turned the thing on. I was a tiny bit skeptical of how it would work. First it turned into a fine fluff, then into a paste, and eventually into a liquid as the cocoa butter was released in the process and it all blended together. It had gone from a relatively dry mixture of nibs and sugar into melted chocolate, simple as that. I blended it for a while, then poured it out on the parchment paper on the pan, and the others gathered around to try it out. The result was gratifying in spite of a pretty grainy texture. We left it out while we went shopping and found it still a bit soft when we returned, but after hardening in the fridge, it stayed that way back out in room temperature again, like chocolate is supposed to. That was Tuesday's experiment. 

So I did some more research and geared up for a more serious try at this chocolate process. Since our blender is quite well-used by now (it's still good for some things but not all), we recently found a new one with a bit higher power that I figured should do a finer job of processing the nibs. This time too I'd try tempering the chocolate after grinding it. The detailed article I printed off gave me little hope of getting anywhere close to my desired mark on my first try of tempering, which is reasonable of course, but it gave me low expectations all the same. 

Thursday was a big-time snow day, and it was piling up most of the day. Welcome Collective cancelled their activities including furniture deliveries so the guys had a holiday. That morning while the snow swirled outside the windows, another pan of cacao nibs toasted in the oven, creating a nice atmosphere for the occasion. I put the new blender to use after that and watched the magic of warm brown grit transforming into a rich, dark liquor. It doesn't smell that great during the grinding/blending, as bitter odors or gases are released. I added sugar part way through and ran the blades for quite a while. (If I were doing it the right way, I'd be using what's called a "chocolate melanger" which is a wet grinder with stones that can process cocoa paste into a super fine chocolate if you run it straight for a day or two. Maybe in the future when I wish to invest spare cash.)

Then, the tempering. This process helps to stabilize chocolate, giving it a shinier appearance and a good snap when you break it apart, as well as a smoother texture. There's a scientific explanation for how it helps the fat crystals to form and align correctly, look it up if you're curious. I don't have a marble surface to do the tempering on but no matter, I used a glass pan for that. I poured the liquid out and kept scraping and stirring it back and forth until the mass had cooled to a specific temperature. Then I scraped it into a bowl to heat over a kettle of boiling water, and it only needed to heat a few degrees but it happened quicker than I realized and I overshot by a ways. Out into the pan to cool again, continually moving and scraping. Once more to the bowl, to warm just a couple degrees. Then I spooned it out into a silicone mold of small stars and the rest into small cupcake papers. A few minutes in the fridge hardened them up quite fine. The stars looked particularly nice once they were popped out of the mold. We tried some defective-ish ones and house mama declared this chocolate to be really, really good, refuting my suggestion that she was just being kind. The chocolate remained hard at room temperature, and while still a little grainy, I was very satisfied with the flavor.

It seemed like a Saturday to us, the way the day unfolded. The guys got some things done at the house then went exploring for a good portion of the day. We even met for supper because of Saturday plans already in the making, where we wouldn't be spending the day together. I did some shoveling too in the late afternoon when the storm was over. I'm not sure how much we recieved but it could easily have been a foot. Road graders and other equipment were came by through the day large piles formed quickly on the sides of the street. The snow mountain along our front walk continues to grow. By the end of my shoveling it was up to the bar on the lamppost (I heaped it up a little extra there for the effect, but all the same). Back in Pennsylvania during other winters I've had fun sculpting walls of snow along the driveway. Here this winter the opportunities are even better for tossing up white fortifications. 

I had to think of all the PA folks who bellyache for a winter like this, with unbroken cold and snow upon snow. Have I ever been one of that number? And yet here I am experiencing just that. Various Quebecers around here have said this is a "more normal winter" than the past handful have been. 

A larger group than I had expected gathered at church for the morning service. It was an inspiring time. Keith & Karen Wedel from Roxton Falls came as well as Philippe & Starlyn Daigle and their three children. On a regular schedule, Keith who is the nonresident minister, likes to come each month on the second Sunday. Then from Alexandria came Frank & Carla Goossen and their youngest son. Frank is also a minister. Steve Smith from Phoenix, AZ was there too. He is here again in Montreal on business involving the airline industry. I'm not sure exactly what he does, but I think it relates to the mechanical aspect of airplanes, and he has traveled around a bit in his 27 year career. Emile and Louis came as usual. Akli was back after being gone due to a surgery last month, it was so good to have him with us again. Another visitor joined us during the service, an older Pakistani gentleman whom Darrel's have recently got acquainted with. Then Rose slipped in the door toward the end. 

Steve shared some inspiration for an introduction, and then Keith and Frank both contributed a small message. Phil translated for them. I enjoy hearing his true blue Quebecois accent. The group of us filled up three tables for the good dinner that followed, and it was very interesting getting to know Steve a little, exchanging overviews of our lives, and listening to the discussions about the differing climates of Arizona, Louisiana, and Quebec. Since Valentine's Day is coming up, there was decor to match: napkins and a couple vases of roses. The roses from Walmart hadn't been in the best shape so Sabrina removed a lot of the wilting outer petals. They looked good scattered down the middle of two tables. 

Generally we go to Alexandria on the second Sunday evening for their program, but went instead to Roxton Falls this evening to hear Hank's and Keith's travel reports. Both couples had been over in Africa throughout January visiting countries they are the field secretaries for. Each of them had no trouble filling up an hour of presentation and could have gone on. The children in particular were tiring of the service by the end and were glad to trot off some energy afterwards. Though there wasn't much time left in the evening, the youth gathered at Hank & Sharon's for snack. 

We lingered among friends at church and gave Marie-Josée a ride back to her house which isn't too far from church (she moved again not long ago). She had walked to church and would have walked home, but she accepted our offer when she discovered the gift we brought for her was indeed some small potted flowers which probably shouldn't be carried twenty minutes in the cold wind. Oh, she was tickled to receive something special for Valentine's. (Now that I think of it, that wasn't the only gift we brought along. Julian and Alec were excited that it was their friend Louis Andries' third birthday today so we had made sure to put a couple things in a gift bag for him.) We ran on to Hank's after dropping Marie-Josée and ended up staying the longest of anyone. Tyler Friesen was giving his Montreal report back home in Ballico so at ten we tuned in and everyone got to listen. I'd say he covered all the bases pretty well, taking up a good half hour or so and even including a Q&A at the end! 

At Hank's we picked up a gift from a friend in Togo, a Belleville girl who has been teaching for a missionary family for over a year and a half. Sabrina had sent a few things along with Hank & Sharon for Linda, and she sent back a mortar & pestle, a woven table runner, a message written on a postcard, and even a couple small elephants carved of black wood for Julian and Alec, to their delight. A good little snowstorm added some interest to the drive home but we arrived safely, and at a very late hour.

I dropped off Micah and Riley by 9:15 at Station Cadillac. From there they rode downtown to take the lightrail out across the river where they were picked up by the Roxton Falls youth group heading to Alexandria. Both youth groups and our guys went on to Ottawa for a skating outing on the Rideau Canal. The Rideau Canal Skateway holds the record for being the world's largest and second-longest skating rink. 

The four of us chose to stay in Montreal for practical purposes, and for our own outing we headed off to see a little of the St. Henri neighborhood which is where Welcome Hall Mission is located. The main idea was Léché Desserts of which I have written about a few other times, that really vibey doughnut shop just up the street from the mission, in the bottom of a large brick building that was a textile factory a century ago. I first stepped in this place one Friday at the end of last June, with the guys, and we were back many times since. A couple times we brought some extra doughnuts home for the others and house mama quickly became a fan, for sure of that Earl Grey doughnut. While the selection in the showcase changes through the seasons, some kinds are permanent fixtures like the maple ones and the Boston cremes. 

There were no Earl Grey doughnuts like she was hoping, but she tried a Gâteau au fromage (cheesecake) one and I a hazelnut one. Julian and Alec shared one with sprinkles and some hot chocolate to drink. It was a good time seated in that charming place, with hanging lamps, wooden floor, and some large artworks hung on the deep brick walls. 

From there we had an idea to walk through the neighborhood to F&F Pizza (but found it was closed). Down along Rue Notre Dame however a good portion of the street was blocked off for the Montréal Boréal event. I'd seen this small winter festival on posters but forgot all about it, so that was a nice surprise! It was early afternoon so there was some activity, probably not what it would be in the evening. The first feature we passed by was a guy on a little platform singing French children's songs, and the song right then was one Julian knows so we stood there on the sidewalk and sang along.

Frère Jacques,

Frère Jacques,

Dormez-vous?

Dormez-vous?

Sonnez les matines,

Sonnez les matines,

Ding-ding-dong,

Ding-ding-dong.

Just on down was another guy on a higher platform with a five gallon bucket drum, and in front of him on the pavement were a score of overturned buckets with drumsticks for children. Quite a few youngsters were pounding away on the buckets, not just random cacophony but keeping time with the guy who was leading the activity. He also had some music turned up loud to play rhythm along to. Julian and Alec claimed spots, picked up the sticks, and joined in. Julian was able to follow the instructions and the group rhythm, while Alec just had the time of his life pounding on his bucket in one particular style: all-out. That little drummer in his puffy blue coat with an orange hood rapped his bucket while bobbing up and down like the best of them -- a snapshot moment.

Right near that was a booth with long, colorful ribbons hanging in a bunch from the canopy. One girl asked the boys which color they would like, then snipped off a section to give to another who tied it to a simple craft consisting of a plastic stick poked into a foam ball which was then brushed with glue and dipped in blue glitter, or gold if you chose. And voilà, the boys were each waving around a "bâtonnet magique." 

It was sunny that afternoon but still very cold. When dressing the boys for the outing, we hadn't counted on the slush we'd be walking through on the sides of the streets, and Alec's tendency to stumble in it. In no time at all his shoes and pants were wet from the slush so we had to keep a move on. One neat feature along there is a large inflated igloo to step inside and see different tables set up with artisanal things and another craft for children. Farther down the street were a couple warm campfires, and I mean real ones, in a city where you can't have a wood fire in your backyard, remember. Somehow they show up at special events in the winter.

We came to the end and returned up the sunny side of the street. There's an old church along there (and sort of iconic for the neighborhood, a landmark at least) whose two towers look like they were chopped off on top, or were never completed. Maybe they were designed that way. We had just walked past and I'd glanced up to the bright sky and noticed of a sudden that the branches overhead had buds on them. I went a little farther, then had to stop and take a proper look just to see this wonder, an odd sight in this land of hostile winters. 

Very soon our main idea was getting us all back into the comforts of the Honda. Forget about going and seeing St. Joseph's Oratory, or visiting our favorite matcha shop, like we had been thinking. We did stop on the way back at a Value Village, where on the same lot is a large Chinese market that carries our favorite bubble tea mix (I stocked up a bit for when we return to Pennsylvania). And Walmart yet, and we spent the rest of the day at home. 

Nobody planned on the metro singing at Station Villa Maria being put on by so few chanteurs, of course. 

Being the first Friday of the month, it was going to be just us and Darrel's. We parked behind Station St. Michel about the same time they did. This station is the east end of the blue line and not that far from Darrel's. After the long ride down to the other end of the blue line we went one stop down the orange to the station we had reserved. We'd lost track of the Ensz's and were waiting a couple minutes at Villa Maria, a message came from Darrel telling us they were headed homeward. Their suspicions of Ariella's fever were confirmed in a dreadful manner when the little girl "threw up all over everything" when they arrived at Snowdon, the west end of the blue line. 

We decided we may as well stay and at least give it a try, a little dismayed that it wasn't a quieter station we had reserved, now with nobody helping us. The singing spot in this station is just one level up from the tracks and around the corner, so it's very noisy whenever the trains come through. And when you're singing, it seems to be continual. Up went the tract rack, out came the books, and forthwith there was heard harmony in the echoing spaces. We grouped close in a corner for best effect. This station does have good acoustics, but again volume is necessary. There were times between trains though that I listened in our pauses as we belted out the music, how it echoed out and up for a good way. There was some response, small as our efforts seemed. Some kind souls tossed a few coins, some others stopped to take a tract. I don't feel it was time wasted all in all.

On the way home we stopped at Darrel's to pick up a pan of savory sliced potatoes Natalie had prepared, and added it to our supper, probably the quietest metro singing supper there ever was. And while it was definitely the smallest singing in our time here, I wouldn't say it sets any record! Hats off to one rare house mama in CPS Montreal history who performed a metro singing as one half of a duet -- with one of the unit boys. That's a legend I'd like to know more about.

So we coast into a new month. Coast isn't the right word, as a lot still takes place, but somehow the time flows by. 

The weekend: Dietrich shows up in Montreal after metro singing Friday night, January 31, and spends the next two days with us. It's fun having that cheerful soul around. On Saturday we have a breakfast of crepes together, then the three guys go abroad for the afternoon and evening. He stays through Sunday evening, and since it's the first Sunday of the month, a good group of youth from Roxton Falls and Alexandria and a few couples assemble in our little church here for a program on the topic of Humility. Dietrich drives back out to Roxton where he will continue living with and working for Steve Penner's, helping with tapping in the maple forests.

Tuesday: It's a slower morning at Welcome Hall, not nearly the showing of twenty-seven appointments every half hour that is on schedule. I'm at station 7B handing out stuff from the table of coolers behind me: corndogs, boxes of unbaked elf cookies, an assortment of refrigerated food, Greek yogurt (everyone gets to take six large containers if they wish), and frozen meat. 7B is the meat station technically but often there's more of other stuff than meat. Chrissy's young friend Laura is beside me at station 6B so she keeps it interesting. Her random question for the day: "If you could be any kind of tree, what would you be?" Well back home, I answer, we have lots of oak trees, and those are beautiful. I think I'd be an oak tree. "I'd see myself as a redwood, mainly because of my height," she says. She mentions her time visiting Inuit people of the far north and how she really stuck out there, as they are generally short. "Or I'd be a willow tree, I like those too." Later on we talk about favorite ethnic foods. I forget the ones she listed off, except she did mention liking Indian food. "Last year on Valentine's Day I ordered in a lot of Indian food. I think I'll do that again this year." Nothing like a special date with some good food, if that's what speaks to your soul.

Wednesday: Sabrina comes home after her day of volunteering at Welcome Collective with some more mixed feelings. She enjoys volunteering, but will often feel put on the spot when it comes to being a pilgrim & stranger. Again there's another round of things to talk about, mainly how those ladies at lunchtime invariably turn toward politics and let loose all manner of pessimism. House mama holds her peace through as much of it as possible, but still gets tossed some questions or comments. "It feels a little like persecution," she says, sometimes wondering if she wants to continue. "Today there were two police men working with us, one of Spanish background and the other Arabic. They were very nice." If cadets or police come to volunteer as they often do, and (it seems to me) particularly if they are men, they are more sensible and keep political opinions largely to themselves -- but those ladies have a regular talk show going on every time. And house mama gets to sit in for free whether she likes it or not.

Thursday: A snowstorm moves through and leaves fluffy inches behind. We stay put most of the day as it blows in and accumulates. Later in the afternoon I run for some groceries and enjoy the snowy roads, as I much prefer them to the brown slush that they will become. Julian helps me shovel the front walk again, and we toss the snow into the yard which is growing deeper by the week and hardly receding at all. I imagine one could bellyflop into the yard from the porch and have a most comfortable landing, as far as the softness of the landing goes. The guys cook up some good spaghetti & Caesar salad for our supper. Outdoors it is dark, not actual darkness, but that bright twilight of glowing clouds over a white world.