Octobre 2024

Welcome October, with chilly mornings, warm afternoons, and this evening some cold and rain. A lot of the locust trees down the center of our boulevard are turning yellow. Some are still green. Hundreds of maple seeds have scattered across our street the last few days, to be washed down the storm drain or collected by the street sweeper that swishes by once a week. 

Before we know it, it'll be time to put up the tempos again, those car shelters that are required over driveways from around Thanksgiving (October 14 in Canada) until the middle of next April. I guess we'll see if we can reassemble ours without ending up with a bunch of spare parts! We'll put up the tempo at Hélène's too, while she's far away with her husband in Japan for the rest of the year. She leaves this coming Sunday. "I'll give you the house keys," she told Sabrina. "Then the car can be moved out of the garage for setting up the tempo." 

And by the way, she recently had an electrician in to do some wiring. There was a random cable she told him to go ahead and cut, thinking it was an old and nonessential one. What a surprise to find out later that she had no TV and internet service! "Actually it is kind of freeing, taking a break from all the news," she declared, holding up her hands. She can still use her phone and laptop so she's not entirely cut off. 

Also while Hélène's gone, Sabrina will tend her houseplants. We thought about bringing them over here but quickly decided no, the safety of those plants is more certain if they stay put.

We didn't know much about Rocky Wedel or when he'd be showing up, just that he was flying in sometime in the evening and would find his way to the house. After supper while the guys were still out playing basketball somewhere, the doorbell rang and I welcomed this former CPS boy in (he was here a year ago). A Kansas boy, tall and stocky, same age as our guys, soft-spoken, cheerful. A wedding in Roxton Falls is the weekend's objective, so he arrived early to spend some time in the city besides.

"It feels like coming home," he said. But it wasn't entirely, not with familiar faces long gone. He was sad to have missed seeing Regan's by just a few days. "All the people that were here when I was here, it seems like they should still be around." 

He made himself at home, and presently Caleb and Tyler returned and the three of them hung out in the living room for a long time getting acquainted.

Rocky was glad to come along to Welcome Hall for the morning. Chrissy, one of the volunteers, said just yesterday she had been looking through some pictures from a while back and Rocky had been in one of them, so it was quite a surprise to have him appear in real life shortly after! The guys went their way and I came home after a good morning shift.

Jackson Penner from Roxton was in the city picking someone up from the airport, and then as arranged he came by to pick up all three guys as well. They'd be spending the next two nights at Steve & Shan's. I knew it would seem a bit strange to be just us and the little boys for a change, but fun at the same time. This being Friday, there was no metro singing on account of Roxton Falls switching back to coming just once a month and a wedding happening there this weekend. Nobody was available to help out so we opted to take a break.

Given my love of Chinese food and noodles in particular, one would have thought that by now I would have visited at least some of Montreal's many Asian restaurants. I hadn't, sad but true. Even St. Leonard has a good number. We passed by Wing Phat many times to and from church. Caleb had been there once and loved it. 

We wiggled into a parking spot down a side street and were fortunate to be seated upon entering the restaurant. It was already loud with people and by the time we left, many were waiting in line. Supper was simple: a couple spring rolls as an appetizer, a small plate of Pad Thai with shrimp, a small plate of General Tao chicken. "Small" according to the menu -- but enormous helpings of each when they landed on our table shortly after ordering. We ate plenty (and loved it, even Sabrina) and still took a full box home. 

We all slept in pretty good and woke to a crystal clear day, just perfect for the endless options of how we could spend it. A plan was made and we headed out towards noon, to park under Autoroute 40 by Station Crémazie and ride to Station Jean-Talon. Aboveground, I was thankful again we didn't drive to the market, traffic looked like a mess. Many people were out on foot. We joined the stream headed from the metro station to Jean Talon Market which was abuzz and overflowing with stuff like usual. 

Another attraction there this weekend is the Oktoberfest which focuses primarily on craft beer so there wasn't much in it for us. A couple musicians were playing around there though, and we listened to a young guy pull some good peppy music out of an accordion. It was the kind of bright song that catches you in its magic and makes you feel like you might float off the ground.

Another metro ride away to Place des Arts, where we walked through part of the underground city, sat by the soaring fountain in Complexe Desjardins, found our way to the quiet shimmering corridor known to us as the glass hall, and then aboveground through a metro entrance near Square Victoria that is noted for its Paris metro sign gifted in 1967. Then down to the Grand Quai where two cruise ships were docked, one on each side. We walked along the promenade to see one up close and to hit a couple notes on a public piano nearby. This Quai is also where you'll find the iconic Bonjour structure. Then we put on about a kilometer down along the river to see what was new in the strip of shops near the Ferris wheel. We made one long pass through the squares and main drag of the old city, setting our sights on Chinatown next. 

I was eager to try out Chicha San Chen, the newest bubble tea shop that opened there just a few months ago. This company boasts a rating equivalent of three Michelin stars so of course it didn't disappoint. We stepped into the small corner shop where four women worked in a bright, clean space behind the counter preparing drinks and cooking tapioca. That's one thing that sets them apart, the tapioca pearls are still warm in the bottom of the cup when they hand it over. Sabrina chose a green tea with honey and jellies, and I a green tea with mango and bubbles. Also on their counter I saw something I never had before, a Teapresso machine. 

We enjoyed the drinks outside and walked up the sidewalk towards Rue de la Gauchetiere. Along there are some noodle restaurants, ones where they make the noodles on the spot. In one window we could see a young guy at his floured board with a mound of dough in front of him. Another worker was tossing fresh noodles into big kettles. Sabrina was suddenly hungry for more of this. She used not to be a fan of Chinese food and noodles but I'm getting her converted I think! And how about a restaurant where they make the noodles onsite? We vowed to return. 

The boys shared the bubble teas too and grew possessive so there was a bit of drama. By that time of afternoon they were getting tired out, so tired that by the time we walked out the other end of Chinatown's pedestrian street and down towards the metro station, both were sobbing with vigor. Alec was particularly mad about being strapped in the seat again. We were hurrying down the sidwalk when suddenly a random guy was pulling Sabrina aside, wanting to show her a video. Bless his heart. "This is how you make children stop crying," he said, "watch this." He held up his phone. In the video, a crying baby was surprised by a slice of cheese plopped on its head, and stopped crying just like that. Laughed even. The idea was so absurd, you could say it hit us in the same manner. "It works!" the guy said, and we shared a good laugh and went our ways. Somehow it was a great morale booster. (Just research "babies vs. cheese.") But now Julian was distressed that he hadn't seen the video so he and Alec were still raising discordant harmony. It must have been quite a spectacle, the way random people were responding to it. Would you know, another guy coming from the metro station just said "Waaaaah!" back to them as he passed, and another close behind said, "Don't be so sad!" Others walking ahead glanced back with sympathetic smiles. It was time to get home.  

We were just about home when I remembered Hélène had wanted to come over. She hadn't appeared in the morning so we figured she tried in our absence. I dropped Sabrina off at her house and the rest of us unloaded stuff at ours. They brought a few smaller plants over as well as keys to her house and car. She chatted a while out front and we all gave her goodbye hugs at the end. Tomorrow she heads to Japan for three months. 

I put together a couple simple pizzas to bake on the stone in the oven. It's not hard to assemble a good taste if you have some of the essentials like a flavorful sauce, mozzarella and feta, basil leaves, thin tomato slices, a sprinkling of salt, and a little balsamic glaze to drizzle. It doesn't come close to the pizzas the Italians around here can make, but it works for us once in a while. 

Sunday morning's clouds over the island burned away early for another fine fall day. They still hung low over the countryside to the east but cleared off in time for the wedding at Roxton Falls. The maple woods around the clearing where the church stands is coming aglow, a perfect setting for an autumn ceremony. 

Twas a young lass named Chantale Penner (daughter of Kevin & Joan) and a young man named Matthew Isaac from Steinbach, MB who vowed the vows and were joined in holy matrimony. She wore a rich teal and her bridesmaids, orange. I don't recall the groom's or his attendants colors but they were more muted. A twenty-six person choir, all young folks, filed up on the rostrum for the prelude and postlude. The only French song was that version of Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee sung by all the congregation. The wedding itself was relatively small; not even all the chairs set up into the back were filled. 

It was neat connecting with some old friends and new at the fine dinner at the community center down in the village. One point of interest was talking to Beryl, the groom's dad. He was the first ever CPS Montreal boy, back when. The four of us didn't stick around long, not quite long enough to see Matthew & Chantale go bumping out of the parking lot on a John Deer tractor that appeared outside the main entrance for their departure. Caleb and Tyler continued their socializing with friends and enjoyed some outdoor recreation later in the afternoon, while we returned to the city for a quiet evening at home.

Sometime in the afternoon, Jeff & Lavonne Blosser from Pincher Creek, AB landed in Montreal, on their way to a Spanish proofreading meeting in Vermont this week. They are acquainted with Tyler, being the parents of Tyler's sister-in-law, if that makes sense, so they were enthused to reconnect. They had never visited or flown through this city before so it was all new. He had called the CPS landline the evening before. Might we spend Monday evening together, take you out for supper? Of course. Will you stay at our house for the night instead of a hotel? It's an offer. Yes, glad to. 

The line was long at the car rental counters so they left the airport none too early, and when they did, there was the lovely Montreal Parking Lot (Autoroute 40 at rush hour) to experience. They pulled up to the house at last and before long we were all riding downtown to meet the guys at a popular poutine restaurant called La Banquise. (Literally translated, The Ice Floe. Don't ask me how that correlates to fast-food poutine.) Are there any other 24/7 restaurants in Montreal? Maybe, but it's rare. We'd tried the place last year during a unit reunion, and our guys have been there lots this summer. As usual, the line from the door trailed down the sidewalk when we arrived and people kept coming. It was crammed and noisy inside but they arranged seating for all of us. We waited a bit and Alec in particular has precious little patience, but when the steaming mounds of poutine hit our table we dug in and were not disappointed. They fix it up in a score of different ways.

The restaurant was full of friends, couples, and families. A beautiful young family sat down nearby. The dad removed his fine gray trench coat and was as well dressed underneath, probably normal work attire and took a seat by his daughter, probably around ten years old. She stowed her small musical instrument case under the table. The mom and son sat across from them. It must have been the son's birthday as well, because after we had finished and when Sabrina and I were about to take our bored boys outside, lights flicked off and a server came to their table with a cupcake and a number 8 candle, loudly singing "Bonne fête à toi" with a couple other employees and whoever cared to join. That boy got one deafening cheer from everyone after the song. 

Passing by on our way out, I took the chance to practice a line I hadn't used before. "Vous avez une très belle famille!" They answered, "Merci!"

We walked down into the nearby Parc La Fontaine, down along one of the ponds, until we were notified that the others had exited the restaurant. The guys crammed in the back seat with Julian and we all went up Mont Royal yet to see the views. The city seemed brighter and I think it was, because back in the summertime the darkness came much later and by that time, more lights would have been turned off for the night in those towers. The wind was pretty cold up there and we were glad for the layers we had on, wishing for more. Visitors were few so there were good viewing spots aplenty along the parapet. A new addition to the overlook was a few of those viewing things like clunky, stationary binoculars that you stick a dollar coin into for a couple minutes of turning it this way and that to pick out iconic things. Luckily for Julian I had a dollar coin so we took turns spying on the city before the lenses went dark again. Back up the island at 5385 we warmed up indoors with London fog drinks thanks to house mama.

I got a slightly different perspective this morning at Welcome Hall. It wasn't profound in any way, and it probably came thanks to my task for the morning which I hadn't done before. It was a simple task of standing by the exit door and gathering the empty carts left by departing clients and running them back to their starting point. 

That doesn't sound like much but I enjoyed it for a couple reasons: I got more walking in than I normally do in a morning shift there, and when the heavy-laden came to the door I got to hold it open and wish them a good day. Most of them had warm smiles and seemed grateful for the provisions. 

I think the picture hit me as I watched one man heave a stuffed pack up on his chest to carry in front. He already had as big of one on his back, and then there was another tote or two to carry. He, like all the rest of these people from different backgrounds and degrees of need, was a survivor in this urban wilderness, briefly stopping in for badly needed supplies just like a through hiker in a natural wilderness. He passed through the portal to the chilly air outdoors, continuing his journey with food to aid his survival. 

When I walk by the littered encampment just outside Station Place St. Henri I think how brutal it must be to be homeless in a city. Or anywhere. These nights are getting cold. Where will they overwinter? Over and over I'm reminded of the blessings I enjoy. We are all survivors navigating life, you could say, yet for many folks the struggle is beyond what we know.

We tuned in to Belleville and listened to the funeral of Mary Swarey. I've only known her as a kindly grandma who seemed to have a smile on her face even when she wasn't smiling, like there was always sunshine ready to pour out. A sweetheart, a saint. Her last nine years were lonely without Ben. Before that, I remember coming to that big brick farmhouse for a Sunday dinner or a youth snack. I remember the tall windows, the old-timey parlor, the trunk in the corner, and of course the warm hospitality. 

Fast forward to the recent past, and we were in her home again, the smaller home not far from the farm, where we gathered with some family and friends one evening to sing for her. And another time, she was thrilled to come to our house with a couple other grannies for Sunday dinner, and Sabrina spread an elegant table and the hours together were golden. Hers was a warm farewell before we left for a year in Montreal.

They sang a special song in the funeral service: "Jesus, Lover of My Soul." Probably the last hymn she had read to herself, maybe she sang it even. The hymnal was found open to that page after her passing, and I can only believe that not too long after, the Lover of her soul opened His arms wide and let her to His bosom fly.

♦ ♦ ♦

We visited the Insectarium this afternoon, built on the grounds of the Botanical Gardens. The first part of the tour exhibited different live creatures, some exotic bugs camouflaging on branches in their brightly lit terrariums. In a domed room, the wall was lined with large displays of preserved insects, mostly butterflies, but also many incredible and bizarre bugs I had never seen. Some looked pretty creepy, even if they were motionless behind glass. The butterflies and moths ranged from dusky brown to brilliant red, yellow, and some irridescent blue, quite a collection all together.  

Somewhere beyond we passed a portal into the warm, moist ecosystem housed in the glass-walled building and into the magical realm of plants and butterflies, a tiny bit of paradise. There was a constant, silent flutter overhead, and if I may get a little poetic it looked like music in motion; wings, silent and beautiful wings. A closer look among leaves and vines revealed more hiding here and there, resting momentarily. Some of the large ones are a camouflage brown like bark on a tree when the wings are folded, but spread out to fly, they display a startling brilliance. Some butterflies were hanging out on the netting beneath the ceiling, and others didn't seem to tire of their flitting. 

There's a little nook with a bench so we sat there a bit except for Alexander who was so enthralled he stayed busy pointing, reaching out to them, telling them "No!" There was some food for them nearby and he thought they should be sipping there instead of on the flowers. Here and there along the walk are narrow, open shelves lined with slices of grapefruit and watermelon and those always had visitors poking their slender tongues in for a drink.

There were more than butterflies, I'm not sure how much more, but other creatures were hiding on the ground and in the tropical plants. Behind some windows in the wall you can see an ant colony and just a little to the side, a suspended network of slender sticks or vines appeared from the wall and ran at least fifteen or twenty feet along the walkway, like a highway for the ants, they were crawling everywhere on it. From the end of this little turnpike which ended at a tree stump full of food like hibiscus flowers and other leaves came a colorful parade of tidbits as ants lugged their food back to the colony. At the same time as many ants were weaving among them in the other direction, heading to pick up food. They all had a long way to go but they all knew what was up and were busy as anything; the sight was impressive. 

We walked throughout the gardens yet and discovered a growing emptiness as workers continued the ongoing winterization project. Only one block of the exhibition gardens was still overflowing with colors, the rest were plots of bare earth raked smooth. We cut through the lilac field (and found a lone, late-season bush blooming) and it was the same discovery at Flowery Brook, no longer the picture of paradise it is all summer. The wind was chilly and we were dressed none too warm, so we followed trails into the woods of the First Nations garden. With leaves falling from trees and undergrowth, the woods are looking more open, their magic is fading back into the earth for the long night of winter. Coming out on the other side of the woods we made a beeline for the parking lot.

♦ ♦ ♦

I couldn't help but think of Mary throughout the afternoon, now surrounded by the purest beauty of every kind, beautiful wings, incredible gardens that never grow empty of life because it's eternal summertime. At their best, earthly gardens offer a tantalizing glimpse of Paradise, and from there you can only imagine. 

"But I want to roast marshmallows!" Julian begs. It's about 9:30, time for the little boys to be in bed. There's a moment of consideration. This might be the last chance for a little while. Sure, why not. Julian and Alec are in pajamas already so they slip into shoes and jackets and drag their tiny red plastic Adirondack chairs down from the patio to where the gas firepit is now blazing. 

They absolutely love marshmallows (what child doesn't?), just like their daddy. Mama has never been much of a fan but does love s'mores. The big guys like them too, especially Tyler. (It's been interesting discovering what different random things he likes that I also like, and marshmallows are one of them.)

We gather around and marshmallows float above the flames on bamboo skewers for lack of a better option around here. It's a chilly night but doesn't feel as cold as the day was with its wind. The propane firepit gives off a good heat too and the crispy treats hit the spot. The little boys' mouths bulge as they empty and refill their skewers quite regularly. Mama's bit of worried research brings up some nice results: while marshmallows offer no health benefits, there are practically no drawbacks. Sounds like good news to me.  

At the start of things I thought metro singing would have to be called off, that we'd just let all the folks know to come on over to CPS because we weren't able to come and sing. When it was time to go, the van key was nowhere around. Pouf. Vanished. It seemed we looked everywhere, but apparently not or we would've found it. 

It was more bizarre though that the spare one from the office desk was also gone; not surprising, considering how the boys like to root around sometimes, but that it had to coincide with the main key's disappearance made it more dismaying.

Half an hour later Tyler found the spare under the desk in the corner, to all our relief. We roared away to Cadillac, rode down the line, and ended up at Sherbrooke around 6:15 where the group from Roxton Falls waited at the harp. Gary & Chelsea were along too with their small dog Toast which stayed calm all during the singing. It was a larger group than usual, thanks to the presence of some of the young folks' friends along for the event. It was hard not to think about the friends who weren't with us: Regan's of course, and also Caleb who left Montreal this morning for his brother's wedding in Minnesota this weekend. 

A lot of people passed through the station so a good number showed interest, and overall it felt like a successful singing. Poor house mama though, she was frigid all the while and by the end her fingers were numb. A good bit of air rushed continually through the corridor from the exit nearby and it was a cold evening outdoors. I hadn't remembered that from before but now we'll need to!

Back at the house, the youth wiped out the supper of chicken fajita bowls in short order. The firepit was lit in the backyard again for some of the guys to bundle up and sit around, and later there was a scramble as a light rain began to fall. Toast ran around upstairs and we had a good time with Gary & Chelsea in the living room. Presently they gathered their things, put a little sweater on Toast, and left to pick up Gary's youngest brother James and his wife at the airport, come to visit for the weekend. Together they would spend the weekend in Montreal. 

It was a chilly Saturday evening. I was ready to stay put and relax after what felt like a day of making food. Really it wasn't that intense but I'd made a few things and took them to church in the afternoon in preparation for the Sunday potluck. It's going to be a Thanksgiving dinner at that, because Thanksgiving Day here is always in the middle of October. (A much more appropriate time of autumn than the fourth Thursday of November, I've always thought, but hey, this year we'll celebrate twice.)

Sabrina was ready to get out and do something though. A quick search of restaurants in our neighborhood brought up a good option: Jarry Smoked Meat, not three kilometers from home and on Rue Jarry. There we had a fine supper and while some visitors would say it doesn't compare to the smoked meat shops downtown, we loved our sandwiches, karnatzel, cole slaw, and fries. It's good to know we don't have to go far when we crave this Montreal specialty again.

As it happens, this is not the first but second time now that I've changed ages in Montreal. I don't remember much about the first time which took place in 2017, scarcely a week before my term was over, but this time sure was memorable. The day began pretty early for me as there were a couple things to prepare for the dinner at church yet. We had a quick breakfast and there were a couple small gifts. Julian stuffed a little Duolingo owl plushie into a gift bag and sang "Bonne fête" with mama as he brought it to me. Then a cologne "from" Sabrina, one I'd had my eyes on for a long time and picked out recently from the glimmering shelves at Jean Coutu: Acqua di Gio. 

We all headed over to church in good time to unlock, turn on lights, and find places in the kitchen for the stuff we brought. A man named Guillame was the first to arrive after us. I had never met him before but had heard of him. A couple years ago he was a regular attendee if I understand right, good friends with Lonnie Friesen, the missionary before Regan's. Then the church door opened again, and in came Keith & Karen and Andrea from Roxton with his parents, (step-dad) Rodney & Stella Froese and their daughter Rachelle Froese. Dmitri & Luba and Anna came, with Anna's friend Tara Penner who had spent the weekend in the city together. Akli and his wife came as always, and Louis. Then there was Anique, a young part-Haitian woman who had attended the wedding in Roxton last Sunday with her husband; she came alone today. 

Danny & Tracey appeared with all their family, which consists of two daughters and their husbands: Kelsey & Julia, Gary & Chelsea. Another young couple was with them, Gary's youngest brother James and his wife from Geiger, AL, spending the weekend in Montreal. Another older couple showed up as well: Andy & Patricia Friesen from Edberg, AB. They were near the end of their eastern Canada trip which included a couple places in New Brunswick, a few days in Quebec City, and a day and a half here in Montreal. We enjoyed having those friendly folks with us. 

Truly, it is rare that people passing through or vacationing in Montreal show up on Sunday morning, and it's a nice treat. Too bad it doesn't happen more often; do few Mennonites come to explore this city? Like Tyler pointed out, it may well be that a lot more folks come around here than we know, so who can tell. 

And how can I forget? My Quebecois grandma, Marie-Josée, who would have stopped at nothing to be able to take part in a special day like this. She came in the door beaming like usual with Keith & Karen. 

It was a full chapel and a nice service together, singing French hymns (and some English) and listening to the inspirations shared by Andy Friesen and Min. Rodney Froese. Then a lot of chatter picked up after the service while a couple of us erected and set tables and the ladies did some last minute stuff in the kitchen. Danny's and their family didn't stay for dinner, as Tracey's sister would be hosting them all in her home, and the rest of us filled up two pairs of tables for a fine dinner of Thanksgiving food, topped off with Karen's amazing pies. Tea lights and long grasses stuck in empty vases graced the table. The gray, cold day outdoors only augmented the warmth and festive vibe inside. I'll always remember the joy of that gathering and how it made my 29th birthday special. 

By and by everyone gathered their things and went their way. We loaded up the van with our things and Marie-Josée's small suitcase and all piled in. Later in the afternoon I ran back to church with Tyler to get all the cleanup done so it wouldn't have to be done tomorrow, and then we stopped by Pizzeria Gusto on down Rue Jarry towards Boulevard Lacordaire just in time to pick up two fresh pizzas for our supper. Sabrina fixed a small salad to go with it and we ended the meal with some good chocolate cake. Marie-Josée found her large gift bag and started pulling out gifts. 

First of all, a beautiful Burnside flannel shirt in dark shades of blue and charcoal, of higher quality material than others I've worn, with a luxurious feel and a perfect fit. Then for Sabrina appeared a tablecloth with a pattern of desert plants printed on a light background, which reminded Marie-Josée so much of Sabrina that she just had to get it! Then for Julian and Alec, a bubblegum lollipop for each of them and a hardcover book of Little Critters stories (Mercer Meyer). That combination was like a magic charm -- for a while after, they were seated side by side on the couch flipping through the stories and licking their lollipops in one of those rare and precious times of perfect friendship. "I'm sorry I don't have something along for Tyler!" she exclaimed, and he told her no, that was totally fine. 

Marie-Josée wanted to sing together in the living room so we used the French books and sang a couple good songs at the close of the day. 

Julian and Alec loved having grand-maman with us, having her read them many stories and play a game downstairs with a volleyball for a while. Outdoors it was gray and cold with rain that lent freshness to the air. Some of the regular household duties were done and after a light lunch we had a fun ride out to the countryside together, though a bit later than we had earlier hoped. In spite of the clouds and rain, the forests' colors were spectacular. Not all corn fields were harvested yet. 

First we dropped Tyler off at the Wedel's so he could drive Marie-Josée's car back to her house and spend the rest of the afternoon with the Toews boys who live on the farm across the road. We drove on to stop by Stewart & Vivian Friesen's and loved the warmth of their beautiful 150-year-old country house that is brick outside and hewn beams within. A small wood stove near the corner of the kitchen made it super cozy. Stewart had to fix a car tire so I ran up to the shop with him and we chatted while he removed the wheel, found the hole, and fixed it with a plug. 

Then we cruised on to church for the Thanksgiving supper, the main idea of our outing. By then it was under 40° F. so it was good to be indoors. They saw snow flurries some places. Not all the congregation was there but a good many. Sabrina's long-time friend Kaylee Penner from Kentucky was there, having flown into Montreal in the afternoon. She was joining Rodney & Stella and Rachelle Froese for a journey to the eastern provinces this coming week, and it was good to see her again. The kitchen bar was loaded with a good feast. Mashed potatoes, chicken, gravy, stuffing, salads, roasted pumpkin, cranberry sauce, breads, and then some. A nice assortment of pies appeared on a side table for dessert. 

And that was our Canadian Thanksgiving, or "Action de grâce."

They had arrived towards midnight, the van load of Saul's, so we didn't see Caleb or his family until the morning. It was Trevor & Amanda Saul with their two boys, Josiah age 4 and Edison age 1. What fun for our boys! There was no food distribution at Welcome Hall in the morning due to the holiday yesterday all of us gathered for devotions and a pancake breakfast and got acquainted a little. Now we have met all of Caleb's family, pretty cool that they all made it to Montreal over these last six months. 

Tyler went with them all to see the Biodome together, then ran off to Habitat for Humanity for the afternoon. We had a little more time to get acquainted in the evening when they all returned after their big day, and Julian and Alec were in bed already. The young Saul boys had baths, Josiah ripped around with his small wind-up snowmobile, and then we scattered to our beds after more chat.

It hadn't seemed like all that long ago that the car shelter on our driveway was taken apart and stashed for the spring and summer. Here I was again pulling out those slightly dusty pipes from under the front steps and lugging the tarp out of the utility room. Remembering what a pain it had been to work with those rusty carriage screws and wing nuts, I was stocked with a good supply of new hardware which should last many seasons. Stainless steel, the bolts are. I found the right lengths yesterday at a Rona home improvement store. Times like this, I'm glad for my familiarity with the world of hardware and can shop with confidence. 

Julian helped a little here and there. He was right handy with bringing out some of the angled pipes stashed farther under the porch. Later when I had assembled parts of the frame and was raising them to be fastened together, he held them steady for me. That part of the project was super tricky. There were those times when a pipe would hit the pavement with clatter as though to draw attention to my labors. Look! Watch this newbie putting up a tempo! It's precarious! Truth, I'd never done it before, and the going was slow, but I'd found and printed off some invaluable instructions. I also had some photos to refer to from the end of March to illustrate what the finished structure should look like. 

Somewhere in there a sweet spot is hit when progress speeds up. Side and bottom braces are connected, the frame is half done, then almost done, and then the final arch goes up. Sabrina was out on the front steps to witness that moment of accomplishment. A lot of details followed: tightening all the hardware, anchoring the frame to the ground with a series of rachet straps on each side, placing the concrete weights along the bottom of the frame. I took a break after that. I was now as far as some other folks around here, whose tempo frames remain an uncovered skeleton for a while. Why put the cover on just yet? Maybe I wouldn't have felt as sore the next day if I'd have done the same. 

I was unfolding the tarp along the side of the frame when the neighbor man across the street, who had begun building his, came over to give me some tips. "Don't try putting it on that way," he said, "it will be too difficult. It's better to pull it on from the front." And indeed. We unfolded it a little more, pulled it out on the street, and before long the frame disappeared under its white cover with us tugging in unison on opposite sides. Our drive slopes like most everyone else's, so the end by the garage door rests against the stone siding of the house, on top. He was worried about that because the tarp has a part to pull down over each end of the frame. By some good fortune, the frame wasn't jammed against the house too much and we fit the cover end down over just fine. "You are very lucky," he said. 

Before a breeze could carry the whole thing away, I tied the sides to the frame and continued the fastening process. Somehow the fit didn't seem work out as I imagined. Hmm. I remembered what the instruction sheet had said: "If the structure is not perfectly square, cover will be hard to install." Well my friends, I can't tell you that it was perfectly square, but I wrestled it and got it all lashed to the frame. Sabrina thought it looked great. When I said something about my "uneven tempo" as I like to call it, Tyler said no he wouldn't have noticed. But it was dark, then, and we were returning from a good brick oven pizza supper with the Saul's.

Trevor & Amanda, Josiah, and Edison were out of here so early we didn't hear them go. We had a busy day cleaning up things and making a ginormous Costco and Walmart run in the afternoon. By evening we had another set of company, this time Tyler's family. His folks, Barry & Teresa Friesen, an older sister Natasha & Kyle Wolgemuth of Westlock, AB, with their almost one-year-old Ryker, and Tyler's younger sister Jerilyn. Good as always to see the "context" of our guys. 

Caleb and Tyler had been busy in the kitchen cooking up meat and frying frybread for a supper of Navajo tacos. Caleb's last turn planning the supper, already. It was a full table with all of us around it. Hopefully the next CPS Montreal house will have a larger dining room and a longer table. The food and fellowship was really good. We relaxed around the living room after the supper was cleaned up. Julian and Alec were their typical selves, leaping around with undying enthusiasm, attacking the guys and begging for flights up to the ceiling, playing tricks with Barry. Even Ryker was bright-eyed. Oh the energy of children. What would that be like? Somehow socializing and tiredness has the opposite effect on me.

Crisp air, peach skies with rosy jet streams, golden sunshine through the trees which are becoming quite brilliant themselves, and last night's supermoon still hanging in the sky, so clear it's almost startling: a classic October morning. 

We get to the bus stop in time to catch the express down the boulevard. The bus is warm and most of the quiet commuters are plugged into their electronics or gazing absently out on the surrounding traffic and suburbs that stream by. The musical French voice announces the next stop. 

"Prochain arrêt: Lacordaire/Robert."

"Prochain arrêt: Lacordaire/Jarry."

"Prochain arrêt: Lacordaire/Métropolitain."

Another voice pipes up from a woman's phone, and it sounds suspiciously like Google Translate. "Spectacular," it says. The woman turns up the volume a little, and the voice repeats, "Spectacular." An appropriate word for this beautiful morning. She pulls out her earbuds and the rest of the exchange is lost to me, but after that she's speaking silently to herself, repeating, learning.

"Prochain arrêt: Lacordaire/Rosemont."

"Prochain arrêt: Station Cadillac." Our metro station. 

Before pulling up along the sidewalk and flowing out of the bus as another line of commuters stream on, the musical voice has one more announcement. "Terminus. N'oubliez pas vos effets personnelles. Merci d'avoir voyager avec la STM." Terminus. Don't forget your personal belongings. Thank you for traveling with STM. 

Lines that I could say in my sleep. I love the sound.

It's a good thing that Barry, Kyle & Natasha, and Jerilyn are along for the morning shift at Welcome Hall. Somehow we're a little short on volunteers, so each of them are assigned a station on the B side. And it's one of the busiest days we've participated in, with somewhere around two hundred clients in those two and a half hours. 

I'm at the end of the B row at station seven. I haven't met the volunteers at five and six before and we get acquainted a little. They're retired staff from McGill College employment and are scoping out good places to volunteer for other college retirees like them. They have been coming to Welcome Hall for at least a month, but I haven't seen them because they were helping sort food in the back. They love this assignment and hope to get things switched up so they can do more distribution rather than sorting. 

There's Carlette, a cheerful Jamaican woman who spent her life in Montreal. "I was born in Jamaica but I grew up here. My French isn't very good," she says. 

Her friend Mercedes is from the States and is interested to find out I'm from Pennsylvania. "I grew up outside of D.C. I lived in Philly five years, then in the Midwest a few years after that." She nods knowingly when I describe the general location of my home and the name of a nearby city. She seems like an intriguing person; maybe it's because of her name. Never before have I met someone named Mercedes. 

♦ ♦ ♦

The evening is as clear, with the sun in our eyes as we coast along in the slow traffic to park at a metro station. Then we're underground and that's the last we see of the bright evening. Presently a domed chamber at the intersection of corridors near Station Square Victoria resounds with harmony for the enjoyment of anyone passing. Roger & Kim with their two youngest children from Alexandria are with us (Roger is an old friend of Barry's). A few songs in French, the rest in English. "Stepping in the Light" is the final number, and the last word of the chorus takes on a triumphant sound with the rich echo to accompany it. I have written before of the spectacular acoustics here; this remains my favorite singing spot in the underground. 

It was a day as bright as the last. Maybe brighter, there was not a cloud all day. I took the boys off-roading in the stroller a bit through the woods in our nearby park, finding bright leaves to carry with us, visiting some hidden, grassy nooks. About to loop back, I checked my map for any other parks we could detour through. There was one just across Boulevard Viau, one I had only seen from the road at random times but never visited. We crossed the intersection and soon found the gravel trail meandering off through crimson trees, out past a tall grassy hill with trees on top. 

After a few minutes we spied two empty tennis courts inside their own fence, a basketball court adjoining it. We parked at the gate on the other side and pulled out rackets and balls, one for each of us. It was a perfect afternoon. The sunshine was warm enough to shed jackets, the trees of the park so brilliant around us, the sky so deep, inviting us to send that ball as high up into it as possible. Airplane eclipses swept over us periodically, and I remembered, seven years ago today I was flying back down the Appalachians, excited to go, wishing I could stay. Here I am seven years later, staying. Can it be true?

If anything, this is Julian's love language. Small passes over the net quickly grew as he whacked it back to me one, two, three times, until he missed my return or more often sent the ball sailing over my head. Alec likes tennis too, and though a racket is unwieldy for his size and he's no taller than the net, he can reach up and drop a ball over for me to bounce back. 

When Alec lost interest and kept sneaking out the gate, we gathered our things and walked over to a nice playground near the park pavilion. There's even a splash pad nearby. (How didn't we know?) Sabrina found us after a time and we walked up the tall hill scattered with trees. From the open space on top you can see across the island to Mont Royal and the tops of some of the towers downtown. We'll have to come back in the winter; both slopes look like good ones for sledding. We lounged by the playground as the boys interacted with other neighborhood children. 

How does one tell days like these apart, when they are all as bright and pleasant as before? All I can say is Tyler's family hit the prime time of autumn to see Quebec. They participated in our church service Sunday morning, visited our nearby park after our large dinner at the house, and all hauled out of here in the afternoon for the Quebec City part of their vacation. Caleb went with them so it was just the four of us all by our lonelies for a night and a day. In reality we weren't so lonely, but found it nice to have a break after so full a week. 

My main task for Monday was erecting the tempo frame over at Hélène's. I got it together all right with no leftover pieces. I actually needed more hardware to complete it and was glad to find there was enough left over from our own tempo construction. The Friesen's and Wolgemuth's returned after 9:00 in the evening so we relaxed in the living room with them and heard about their sojourn in that charming city 260 kilometers down the river from here. The folks left early Tuesday morning.

By Tuesday Sabrina was suffering from increasing pain in her neck that had begun on Sunday, and was able to make an appointment with Dr. Alexandra Greco at our nearby clinique chiropractique on Wednesday. After a clear morning Wednesday, the enchantment giving us such balmy temps must have broken because clouds came over and a few rain showers fell in the evening. "The last warm spell," they were saying yesterday. Temperatures are predicted to drop after the weekend and beyond that, we'll see.

Julian was bellyaching to go sightseeing downtown and more specifically, take a ride on the Grand Roue. Sabrina was also itching to get away from the house and just do something fun. A mostly clear (and a little chilly) day was ours, so why not? Rather than park at a station and ride the metro, we opted to drive down the island this time. Parking isn't that scarce on the Clock Tower Quay nowadays. Near the parking lot is a small playground and that was on Julian's bucket list too, so we stayed there a while. My bored fingers gathered golden aspen leaves and wove a garland, which Sabrina put around her neck for the rest of the afternoon. 

We walked around to the Ferris wheel, now decked out in fall and Halloween stuff including a giant inflated pumpkin, bought tickets, and soon were soaring up in a gondola to see what the city looks like in October. It was actually quite marvelous, on such a bright afternoon. Glowing foliage on Mont Royal was the backdrop for the buildings and towers between here and there. Trees throughout the city were scattered pops of color among the gray. The view out across the countryside was finer than a postcard, out to Mont Saint Bruno, Mont Saint Hilaire, and beyond, the landscape aglow with warm light. After our three rounds we stopped by some fall decor in front of the wheel to climb up on an old red Massey Harris tractor while Sabrina waited in a sunny spot. 

She had her leaf garland hung around her neck again and was ready to go walk Rue St. Paul to model it like a fashionista. We strolled the cobblestone street past the boutiques, cozy cafés, and galleries and stopped in at a place or two. The eye-catching accessory attracted a couple compliments and certainly a lot of curious gazes, mostly from women of course. You know how females are, their eyes are out for such things. We got a lot of good laughs out of the deal. The boys were tiring of the outing so we came back to the clock tower parking lot and she left the garland hanging on a park bench. Maybe someone else will enjoy it yet. 

Caleb opted to book Station Square Victoria for metro singing again, this being his last Friday with us. We bundled up a little and left early for a change. Walking up the windy corridor we heard music in the spot we booked, and indeed, an older man was playing a tuba along with a soundtrack of a song only vaguely familiar. We grouped for a bit, then walked on past to the end of the corridor to wait a little in the domed room. Right around 6:00 the track abruptly quit, and we thought, aha, he's about to pack up and go. But then it started up again, the same song. This repeated a few times and honestly it's not just a pleasure to listen to an off-key tuba melody. I was able to log in to our Musiciens du Metro account, pull up the booking, and walk down to him to explain it was our turn. He was just restarting the track but turned it off. 

"But where is your group?" he asked bluntly. I motioned up the corridor. 

"Some are waiting there, more are coming later."

"Go ahead and take the stage!" And he began packing up and was gone in a few minutes. We regrouped by the harp to hold the spot while we waited for the group from Alexandria. 

The singing is always good in that spot, as I've detailed before. Four corridors converge here: one out to the exit aboveground, one the opposite direction to the metro, another to some restaurants, and the fourth to the Centre de Commerce Mondial, Canada's world trade center. Many people passed through from all directions. We wrapped up the singing with a memory song and parted ways. Back at 5385 we enjoyed warm chili, veggies & dip, and frosted pumpkin muffins. 

It's a shame in my mind that we'd been here all the bright spring and summer and had never come to the beautiful Mont Saint Hilaire east of the city. We passed it many times on the way out to Roxton Falls, my eyes always lingering on its regal prominence. Many times I vowed to return. 

The tallest of the peaks in the mountain rises 413 meters (1,354 feet) above the countryside. Like Mont Saint Bruno, this mountain cradles a lake although a bit smaller at 79 acres. Unlike Bruno, there are no vacation homes around the lake.

McGill University of Montreal owns most of the mountain if I understand right. To quote from their website: "McGill University’s Gault Nature Reserve is a private reserve that protects nearly 1,000 hectares of natural environment. Situated at Mont Saint-Hilaire, approximately 40 km from Montreal, this panoramic natural landscape is ideal for viewing the last great vestiges of old-growth forests in the St. Lawrence Valley. With its 25 km of trail network, it is open 365 days a year for the enjoyment of visitors." 

And the only way you can get in is to reserve online, well ahead of time. Only so many visitors are allowed in a day.

It was just the four of us cruising out into the countryside mid-morning. Caleb and Tyler had caught a ride to Alexandria last night to spend Saturday with their friends, going out for breakfast, playing golf, and in the evening a game of hockey. We rolled up to the park entrance, showed our passes, and found a spot to park in the nearly full lot down by some birch trees and yellow maples. The first stop of the trek was the visitor center to pick up a couple maps and plan our route. The hike to Sommet Dieppe at 3.8 km was our pick for the day. 

Off we went into the breathtaking forest. Truly it was a perfect day, with cool autumn air out of a crystal sky and leaves drifting down like confetti, nonstop. And the swish, swish, swish of hikers' feet on the trail. If that isn't magical, I don't know what. 

Pretty soon I figured out I wouldn't be needing my jacket or my vest on top of my flannel and t-shirt. I got warm enough pushing the stroller. Sometimes the boys ran and chased together, sometimes they took turns riding, but more often than not I had my exercise cut out for me, propelling seventy pounds of progeny up the trail. It occurred to me later that I hadn't seen any other strollers on the hike. There were quite a few families out, either with older children walking along or with youngsters that rode in carriers on the backs of their parents. Strollers, no. 

Not far along it was noon and judging by the moods of the boys, it was time to refuel. They were quite cheerful after that and we made better time. The map says our hike takes an hour fifteen. I think we did it in two hours. And I pushed that stroller clear to the end of the solid green line, where it turns into a dotted green line (indicating a steep and/or narrow trail), right around the 300 meter elevation line on the map. I calculate roughly 550 feet of vertical drop between that point and the parking lot. Flex. But I probably wouldn't do that again. 

It was 600 meters of steeper hiking from there with some rock climbing toward the top. A lot of the summit is wind-swept rock surface with tremendous views. The countryside spreads out 1,200 feet below like a rich carpet; the picturesque town with its trees and steeples, the broad Rivière Richelieu dividing it, Autoroute 20 busy with tiny traffic, the low form of Mont Saint Bruno rising to the west, and beyond that, the towers of downtown Montreal rising immediately in front of Mont Royal. We sat together in the sunshine and didn't venture too close to where one could appreciate the updrafts and the steep rock face that drops sharply away. Then we returned to descend the trail with care, retrieve the stroller, and keep that thing from taking off down the mountain. When the trail was smooth enough we took it at a run to the boys' delight. 

The bottom end of the green trail on the map connects to a short brown one, and that's a 400 meter boardwalk down through a hemlock grove in the hollow where a small creek runs, emptying into the lake. We passed near enough to the lake to hear and see the geese on the water, then made tracks back to the visitor center and on down to the parking lot. 

Winding out through the town, we stopped spontaneously at a tiny pizza shop below the golden mountain for a good pizza, then stepped into the adjoining Café Sleepywood where Sabrina got a bag of beans and an apple chai latté for the ride home.

Earlier we had thought to go out to Roxton for the youth meeting, but now that was cancelled. There would be a service in Alexandria to attend if we wanted. The guys had just spent the weekend there. So for once on a Sunday evening we simply stayed home.

Caleb had expressed his hope of doing something rather than "staying home and going to bed at 5:30." Ironically, that's pretty much what happened; after our dinner guests left, the guys did a random activity or two and wiped out for a couple hours, longer than they intended. I guarantee they needed it. 

We snacked a little when they returned upstairs, and someone said, "Well, is it game night tonight?" And we discussed options and chose Monopoly Deal. 

It had been years since I'd played that card game so I'd forgotten just how fun it is. Rules and tricks long stored in the dusty corners of my mind began sneaking back as we started into the first round, laying out properties, buying, trading, stealing. 

I started remembering things from more than half my lifetime ago. Was I in seventh grade? Probably, because this game was brand new around that time. And it was likely in the winter that we played it during indoor recesses. Jill Peachey was an aide at school back then. (More recently Jill Smith, the young mother who lost her battle to cancer a little over three years ago in late June.) Jill played many spirited rounds with us and often it got noisy -- the hands slapping cards on the table, the yelling, the laughter. The moments of triumph when someone ended the game by completing three sets of properties. The dreaded Deal Breaker cards, the delightful Just Say No's.

And they're still in the deck as dreadful and delightful as ever. We played one quick round, then four slower ones with a different twist where you can't use cash for properties, but must apply the right kind of strategies and rent cards, not quite as scary as the regular way but satisfying all the same. 

Ten minutes from the house is OK Pneus, the tire shop mechanic shop CPS patronizes. It was sort of a déjà vu driving down there again mid-morning, and for a moment I wished it was five months ago when I had the summer tires along to switch out for the season. Now instead of a dazzling spring morning, it was a bright autumn one, and it was time for an oil change and another switching of tires.

There had been frost and the early morning air hovered around freezing. As soon as the sun hit the trees it was one continuous shower of leaves in the neighborhood. The first run of the day was out to the warm boulangerie for a box of fresh almond croissants about which my good wife raves. And often craves. Soon after I pulled the winter tires out of the furnace room, loaded them up, and arrived at the tire shop by 10:30. 

I wrote back on May 30 about the familiar vibes of a garage; it was good to feel them again. I didn't walk to the park this time but used the good hour and a half for writing. Then the friendly madame gave me my keys, the transaction was completed, and she wished me a good winter. 

And so it was that Micah Williams, our new volunteer from Mackay, ID, landed in Montreal before 5:00 p.m. Caleb and Tyler were on their way home when I headed out with Julian and Alec. We picked them up at Station Cadillac. From there it was about an hour to the airport thanks to the traffic. We were getting close when a customs agent called me to verify the legitimacy of things and by the end I guess he was satisfied with the info received to let Micah come stay in Canada a while.

He was waiting outside the arrivals by the time we walked up. This time we had no elaborate ruses prepared so it was all straightforward and pretty relaxed. Caleb had a couple big ones to tell him throughout the next hour, though. (He also had devotions the next morning, and successfully incorporated a minute or two of silent meditation on the floor. We were pretty close to derailing it all the while, what a wonder nobody did.) 

Micah Williams: 19 years old, blond hair and gray eyes*, athletic, amiable and sensible. He's an INFJ-T on the 16 Personalities, an "Advocate."

*An uncommon combination. That makes two of them now -- Tyler and Micah both have blond hair and gray eyes. Is this rare or what. 

It was a busy Wednesday. Caleb went off with Tyler for his last day of volunteering and I headed downtown with Micah not long after. for his orientation with EBM (Entraide Benevole Metro, the organization under which the guys volunteer on Mondays to visit elderly folks). We rode the metro to Station Guy Concordia. The office building where EBM is stands right outside of one of the station's exits. Rhiana was there to give the orientation which involves an in-depth presentation of the organization and the work, and a couple forms to fill. An hour later we walked down Boulevard De Maisonneuve and around a corner to grab a warm drink at Café Myriade. Then, a couple more sights: the skyscrapers, The Ring, a little of the underground shopping malls. 

The we rode the metro up to Station Sauvé which is a ten-minute walk from Welcome Collective, from where the guys help on furniture deliveries two days a week. There we met with Charles, one of the head folks, and he gave us a brief tour. One stop back down the line to Crémazie where we parked, then we swung by church to drop off some things. For lunch we headed to the nearest brick oven for some classic Margheritas. Micah was curious to see the boulangerie yet so we picked up a couple chocolate croissants there and wrapped up the trip. 

The day was unusually warm. By afternoon the temps were up around 70° and it felt like a flashback to the marvelous springtime. It brought back the vibe of a waking, blooming world with the anticipation of a memorable summer ahead. "Maybe we could stay through next summer yet," house mama suggested, as she does occasionally. Summers here are so good, too bad they don't last longer.

Later on the guys ran to the park for some basketball while we made supper and would you know, Caleb tore something in his leg just like he had before coming to Montreal. I thought that would cancel any outing after supper but he said no, we could definitely go up Mont Royal, so we did. It was a perfect night to go, so mild and with a restless, sweet wind sifting treetops and whirling leaves. The city glowed for miles before us. The guys sat swinging their legs off the parapet while examining the panorama. Later when we walked up nearer the chateau, they had a contest seeing how many stairs they could leap up in a single jump. Then we found our way back to the Pilot and returned up the island.

This morning, it was Tyler and Micah dashing off to catch the bus around 8:00. "I can't believe it's over," Caleb said. He finished packing his things and loaded them in the van. All of us went along this time. Usually the guys have early flights out but his wasn't until 12:45 p.m. so the little boys were glad for a trip to the airport. We accompanied him through the check-in, then parted ways. He walked around a corner and that was that. 

Il a disparu. Fini. 

It's like he said last week. "I came with the leaves, and now I'm leaving with them." 

And you know when the summer boy leaves, there's no more denying that part of the story is over. 

At 12:45 p.m., a young guy and his two little boys were on the back porch at 5385 Rue Francheville, facing southwest and waving. "Bye Saul," said young voices. The mama stepped out to wave a little too. But of course they never saw the plane, for it took off in the other direction. 

A descending plane passed overhead and the four-year-old asked, "Is that his plane?" 

"No, it's not. His plane is far away by now."

Au revoir, Saul. Thanks for spending the summer with us.

♦ ♦ ♦

It was also Halloween. A few of our neighbors, especially the family on one side of us, had their yard and the front of their house decorated with a few ghouls, cobwebs, blinking lights, and caution tape. It was an appropriate night for it too, warm and windy. After supper I lit the campfire on the back deck for roasting marshmallows and wondered if it might blow out altogether but it didn't. There must have been a gathering of trick-or-treaters over at the park because there all manner of shrieking and howling floated over from that direction for a while. We had already been seeing dressed-up kids before twilight so by now there were quite a few roaming. Our doorbell rang a couple times but we hadn't much to offer. 

We roasted marshmallows outside for a while, then decided to go on a little walk. We strolled through the park and saw some random people in costumes but not much, the majority had scattered across the neighborhood. After a while a light shower started up so we hurried back to the house. 

♦ ♦ ♦

How was it already the end of October?

Pages turn. The present becomes the past, its memories mellowing and sweetening with time. Somehow it's easy to forget, in the present, just how memorable this all is going to be someday.