Septembre 2024

"I only have one more C.E. service left here," said Caleb, checking out the calendar after we'd returned from church in the evening. He'll be planning that one for the first Sunday evening of next month. Every first Sunday evening, folks from both congregations come and participate and we have a light supper together afterward. Caleb's declaration vaguely reminded me of back when I was beginning to face that reality for myself as my six months was steadily coming to an end. Time has sure moved along.

This evening, Tyler's topic was "Faith In God," and there was no lack in volume singing together with the size of group that it was. Neither was there lack in volume after the service with the socializing. Everyone enjoyed themselves. 

It's not often that a visitor comes to our evening service, but this time we had one, an African man who had stopped by at our last metro singing in Station Henri-Bourassa and talked to Regan for a few minutes. He's from somewhere near Congo and speaks French. 

Fritz and Hugues had a good long conversation with him after the service. I pulled a chair up to listen while they explained the Christian faith and showed him a few things in the French Bible he was given to take home. 

"I don't think he was very knowledgeable about religion," Regan said later. "He acted like his parents couldn't read or write, and because of the political or financial state of his country, they didn't have schools and churches."

Matcha: powdered green tea (Japanese word for "ground tea" { 抹茶 }) has been around for a good millennium. I'll say right off that it's an acquired taste, but experience it in the right context like a shake or a good latte and you'll probably come back for more.

As others have expressed, one finds in Montreal that drinks from coffee shops are generally unsweetened, when you would expect them to be. I wouldn't know as I'm not in the coffee world but I found it's not limited to those drinks. Any matcha latte I've had abroad in the city was a flat imitation of what I've experienced previously. It's probably my wife's matcha lattes that I compare them to, and with something like powdered green tea, a sweetener truly brings the flavor to life.

Here's my current favorite preparation and I made some for us just this morning. Pour some maple syrup into the bottom of a mug. Dump in two teaspoons of matcha, and just a bit of boiling water and stir it smooth. Stir in a cup of hot milk yet and go sit out on the front porch and soak in the brilliance of the crisp, clear dawn. I know that might sound a little sappy but remember this isn't pumpkin spice, and we really did sit outdoors together (and summer is practically over here). If you're not on the PSL bandwagon either, try matcha as an alternative this season.

♦ ♦ ♦

(https://www.matchaful.com/pages/the-history-of-matcha) 

It was as good as it's always been, going out to spend the day at Keith & Karen's garden farm near Acton Vale. (Check out Jardins Fraisdel on Google Maps and take a look around.) We cleared one plot of squash and zucchini vines in the morning. Julian and Alec enjoyed finding random little gourds and the occasional small toad zigzagging across the textile. As always, Karen and Andrea set up a marvelous lunch outside, this time with pork tacos, fresh salsa, and various melons in season, followed by a marble chiffon cake and ice cream. 

It was wonderful to spend the day in the sunshine and hear the music of the natural world all around. There were a couple projects to work on through the bright afternoon. Caleb and Tyler dug a hole in one of the greenhouses to remove a rusted frost-proof hydrant (frost-proof because it's a long pipe that connects to a line fairly deep under). They got muddy with that activity which included lying down and sort of diving headfirst into the hole to scoop out water and stones, but they felt accomplished with the successful replacement. Meanwhile I raked and leveled soil that Keith dumped along the lane with a skid loader, to fill in a troublesome dip in the ground. The ladies prepared a small break later in the afternoon. 

The day wasn't complete without a small voyage on the Rivière Noire on small sit-on kayaks yet. Sabrina and I paddled up the dark river and back while Andrea and a friend sat on the dock with the little boys. At one point Julian fell in but Jada grabbed his shirt and made a rescue so it all turned out good. Julian and Alec had a short boat ride after ours, and later on Caleb and Tyler went for a long and eventful expedition. Then we drove on to supper with the Toews family before turning homeward. 

♦ ♦ ♦

(https://www.jardinsfraisdel.ca/) 

Three days of the finest the late summer has to offer, a celebration of sunshine and blue skies. But restless breezes, the calls of a blue jay somewhere in the neighborhood, and the time it takes for the shadow on the back porch to completely disappear each morning speak of other things. The sun is still warm but growing noticeably distant, swinging lower through the sky and disappearing a minute or two earlier each evening. It was all but dusk Friday evening on the drive over to Regan's after a good metro singing at Station Bonaventure. 

The highlight of that singing was the throng that came through at one point, all wearing white clothes and heading for some kind of party. It was probably the most passersby in close proximity that I've ever seen, as the group stepped off the escalators and gathered a little farther in the corridor, for a few minutes filling the area where we sang. Good timing, I thought, as their passing coincided with the rousing French version of Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee.

And so we marked the day, that two years had passed since the arrival of our second-born, Alexander. He was enthused to discover the small tin crank music box we got for him and the birthday card from his grandpa's, which contained two American dollars and a small sheet of stickers. He has also been enthused to ride facing forward in the van now like the rest of us, and currently his seat is directly behind mine. (And now I can appreciate in greater measure the prodigious volume that occasionally comes out of that little mouth. My word.)

It was one more bright and beautiful morning, perfect for getting some stuff done like the mowing, the cleaning of the Pilot, and the guys' chores downstairs. Towards noon we dropped them off at the St. Michel metro station and spent some time in the nearby flea market. It seemed there were people everywhere, driving, shopping, you name it. Everyone must've been feeling the urgency of summer's conclusion and were out to make of it what they could, city folks and late-season tourists alike. Later at a supermarket we picked out a birthday cake for Alec and around four o'clock all six of us headed off to join the slow traffic leaving the island, for supper at the home of Hugues & Amy. It was raining by then and a lot cooler. Now that our Edge is parked out in Roxton Falls, it's super nice to have the shelter of the garage for the Pilot. 

We gathered around their table in the warmth and light of their small house in town and we ate pretty fine. First Amy served a creamy squash soup which we ate with slices of baguettes, and then came a course of charcuterie. Her cutting board was arranged with a handful of kinds of cheeses and thinly sliced meats. Another plate offered two types of pâté: duck and liver; deer, pork, and cranberry. Still another plate was covered with veggies. I don't remember what the cheeses were except there was a soft goat cheese, a small wheel of smoked cheese, and St. Andre cheese which is similar to Brie but even better in my mind. There wasn't wine, but we did have sparkling juice and that was close enough. It wasn't hard to imagine perhaps we were dining at a small cottage off in the countryside of France on a rainy evening. "But this kind of food would be more commonly served as appetizers before a meal, not usually as a meal itself," Hugues said. While we ate he educated us on the different foods we savored and other things of interest. 

Then Amy prepared a pot of hot mint tea and before long we had a little cake and ice cream yet. Alec seemed hesitant to blow out his two candles, leaning back in his chair and sizing them up, but he did eventually. We left the table well filled and then we guys walked down the street through the light rain to see the waterfalls after which the town was named. We ended the evening by singing a couple French favorites around the living room: "Chaque instant de chaque jour" (Day by Day) and "Oh! prends mon âme," that gorgeous minor key song. Good times, good memories. And such was the happy birthday of Alexander Finn. 

And so it was that the day after Alexander turned two, Caleb turned 20. He doesn't mind the celebration of birthdays as long as it's not his own, but we commemorated it all the same. We took an ice cream cake along to church for the potluck after the service. We ended up a smaller group than usual, as the Indian family and a couple others had gone their ways; it was just Akli and his wife, Stewart & Vivian, Regan's, and us. So we had a warm feast together as the outdoors grew colder with clouds and wind. At the end, Sabrina and Caitlin populated the top of the cake with twenty candles and we serenaded him in French. 

A short while after that I ran the guys to Station St. Michel. They traveled by metro and light rail off the island to be picked up by some Roxton friends heading to Alexandria for an afternoon wedding reception. Back at church I picked up my people and our belongings and home we went. "That was our last potluck with Regan's here," Sabrina reminded me. Another last thing. They are happening left and right. 

We took a walk in the evening yet, and the crisp wind couldn't touch me through my layers -- jacket, flannel shirt, undershirt, scarf, hat. Over at the Wilfrid-Bastien park workers were disassembling a Ferris wheel set up for the neighborhood festival that had taken place most of the day. The boys enjoyed the playground equipment for a while, and then we returned to our warm house for relaxation and hot drinks.

Alexander is getting into the stage where he recognizes and desires a lot of different things in a supermarket, but thankfully forgets about stuff as we move on and therefore stays cheerful overall. Also he's amiable with strangers. Some aspects of that may be cause for concern, being in a city, but I'm glad it is that way. At two years old his vocabulary is a bit limited but that doesn't keep him from talking to people, if just a hello or bye. He's the opposite of my former child self, when all strangers were suspicious characters and to be avoided. And to offer a smile? Unthinkable. At least that's how I remember it. But not so with Alec, giving his signature smirk and smiley eyes to everyone, including the granny at the checkout. "Quel beau sourire," she said, returning his with a charming smile of her own.

"You didn't work them hard enough today?" Colin Unruh laughs, as we sit along the wall of a gym in Alexandria and watch the young folks burn energy. 

The volleyball games are good. Caleb and Tyler are enjoying themselves. Not like I haven't seen their competitive sides before, but this, I decide, is a clearer picture of twenty-year-old guys in their natural habitat, surrounded by action and friends.

I describe the day's activities. We'd gone to Welcome Hall in the morning, and the guys to Habitat for Humanity for a couple hours in the afternoon. "So no, I guess it was a low-key day." 

I know for a fact that I never achieved a higher skill level in volleyball than just an average, and tell them so as we leave Alexandria. But no, they say, they are just average players too, they know of players more stellar than themselves. Well, don't we all, I guess. "Average" is relative. 

A voice sings from the back seat, over and over, "Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah, struggling with the old banjo." Alec is asleep behind me. It's a long drive down to the airport, such heavy traffic for this early in the afternoon. 

Finally we arrive at the tiny park beside one of the runways, a grassy area with benches, bleachers, and two observation mounds that give a good view of the runway. We set up a couple small camp chairs on top of one and watch for the jets that float down from a clear sky and roar past us, or take off from a runway farther from us. Many of the larger planes bear the emblem of Canada Air; one, an American flag; and one plane is a rich blue all over with shining silver highlights. 

The occasional small jet comes out on the landing runway and takes off with speed, grace, and a loud noise. The boys raise a cheer and Alec pursues it for ten steps and plops in the grass. "You can't get in the plane," says Julian, the wise older brother. 

Well before 2:00 p.m. I exited Station Lucien-L'Allier, walked down under the train bridge, and turned down Rue St. Antoine. Welcome Hall Mission has a soup kitchen along that street and the guys volunteer there on Monday evenings. I'd never been to the place so it was nice to pass by. Just another block down is the Booth Centre where the Salvation Army, Armée du Salut, has been operating out of for over a dozen years. 

I didn't see the others I was going to meet with so Regan sent me a pin for which entrance to come in. I told the receptionist I was there for the chapel singing and she opened a door for me to proceed. Around a couple corners and past the small cafeteria where Regan volunteers on Thursday mornings I found the chapel and the Toews's as well as Karlos & Heidi. The chapel is a small room with rows of chairs, a podium, musical instruments, and a mural of a lighthouse painted on the wall. Soft music was playing, familiar Christian hymns in English and French sung by professional a cappella singers. No instruments even; it really was beautiful.

The man in charge, a kind, friendly African named Benjamin Nkounkou, gave a short introduction and we sang for a while out of the metro singing books, mostly French songs, a couple English. We made the place ring for the small group of men that gathered to listen. Many chairs were empty, and besides the two staff members present there were just seven other men, some young, some middle-aged, a few older. The audience was hardly larger than our own group but it was well worth the time. I enjoyed harmonizing with the group of good folks in this little chapel downtown, its windows along one side of the room offering a view of the sunny afternoon and the glass high rises nearby. Always present together in a city -- abundant wealth, abundant need. 

Regan had a closing prayer and we met a few of the men before they went their ways. As we gathered at the table by the entry for some snack and chat, the beautiful voices sang softly in the background again, a song I love.

"Gentle Shepherd, come and lead us,

For we need You to help us find our way.

Gentle shepherd, come and feed us,

For we need Your strength from day to day.

There's no other we can turn to

Who can help us face another day;

Gentle Shepherd, come and lead us,

For we need You to help us find our way."

They arrived in the wee hours of the morning, two brothers of Caleb named Jared and Brandon. I didn't see them until the late afternoon because Tyler and I were out the door on normal schedule to commute to Welcome Hall Mission. After the morning shift, the Sauls picked up Tyler and I returned home for a good lunch of fried catfish from the guys's supper last night. Jared and Brandon had spent a little time in Minnesota seeing Brandon's fiancée before coming on to Montreal for the weekend. 

We had more help yet at metro singing in the evening: the Toronto tract workers who are friends of Regan's, Vince & Shana Yost and three young children of Pincher Creek; also Jeremy & Brittany Isaac from Alexandria, a buddy of Brandon's. The harp in Station Square Victoria near the domed room had been reserved by someone else, but when we checked, nobody was there, so we set up in that chamber and took advantage of its fabulous acoustics. 

Back at CPS, Sabrina served up southwest chili over rice. Julian and Alec had a good time with seven other children around for a change. The ladies chatted around the patio table and we guys down on the grass around the firepit, listening to Vince's experiences in Toronto and other good topics.

We visited the Botanical Gardens for a couple hours in the afternoon to check out the Moon Festival in the Chinese Gardens. This autumn celebration has an ancient heritage, observed for more than three thousand years. The activities happened around the main and largest pavilion. 

On the shaded side were a couple tables set up and a few women dressed in silky, elaborate robes and with hair artfully coiffed were offering small cups of hot tea and slices of moon cakes. They also had a display of traditional clothing nearby. Sabrina got in line for some samples and shortly after a drum and cymbals started up a rhythm around the corner. 

On that side the court was lined with chairs that quickly filled with visitors to watch the lion dance. Each lion was brought to life by two men under the costume, one behind and bent over and the other inside the head mask, swaying this way and that, twitching the ears, opening and closing the tasseled mouth. Julian and Alec were so enthralled with the red and yellow lions. When they moved our way, Julian got worried. "Are they going to eat us?" 

Following that was the opening ceremony where a few different men gave short speeches in Chinese, French, and English. Then came an hour of operatic singing. A pianist sat just off-center with an electronic keyboard and provided accompaniment while one singer after another took turns singing songs. A lot of the singers were young Chinese folks with remarkable voices. It was fascinating for what it was -- but as vibrato (voice waver) is the main element of opera, a few minutes of listening were enough for these ears trained to prefer straight-tone singing! So we left for a time and took a long stroll through another part that we hadn't seen before. 

We returned to the pavilion at the end of that program and hung around to watch the playing of traditional music. A young man plucked and strummed some strange music on a seven-stringed instrument called a guqin. Then a young lady with very skillful fingers played some livelier melodies on a larger instrument with at least twenty-one strings called a guzheng. Both instruments are in the family of Chinese plucked zithers. I had only heard music like this at a Chinese restaurant; to see it played live for once was captivating. (A slide show on the website link below includes a picture of this.)

We didn't hang around much longer. The boys were tired out with all the activity. Back near the parking lot we stopped where the old man with an ice cream cart was parked and Sabrina got some cold treats for the boys. Julian chomped on a snow cone and Alec gobbled a small waffle cone with great joy, ending up looking like a little monster with chocolate and ice cream all over his face. I think that was the best part of their afternoon.

♦ ♦ ♦

(https://calendrier.espacepourlavie.ca/mid-autumn-festival) 

It was good to be out in the small chapel of the Roxton Falls church again for a service with the theme of Prayer. There were a handful of parts assigned as usual and then time for volunteers, and I guarantee there were as many if not more of those than assignments so it was a good program. Did anyone mind that the service was on the longer side, lasting an hour and a half? It was just a bit longer than average, after all. 

Then of course there were friends to talk to and when Gary and Chelsea invited us over we said why not. Before long we were climbing the outdoor steps to their upstairs apartment that's fixed up all cozy. The little dog Toast was there to welcome us in. The Toews boys joined us yet for buttery popcorn, warm pu'er tea, and of course good chat and laughter. Gary showed me a map of the fifty-acre farm plot they're planning to buy which is largely wooded but has two fields. Their long-term goal is to build up a homestead there in the future. 

Foraging keeps Gary busy most all of the year. He scavenges forests and wilderness for edible plants and roots that he sells to high end restaurants in Montreal and Quebec City. Meanwhile, Chelsea has her own enterprise focused on art and home decor using materials from the wild. One main feature is the large mushrooms she beautifies with intricate designs. Before leaving we stepped into a small room and looked over a stack of them on a couple shelves. We might have stayed longer but the hour was late. It was none too short a time though to get Sabrina into an enthused and desirous mood; natural art is right down her line.

♦ ♦ ♦

"Barefoot Forager" (https://www.lechasseurdeplante.ca/) 

"Inspiration Boréal" (https://www.inspirationboreal.com/) 

A lot of the renovations at the chapel here in Montreal have been finished for some time now, and through the busyness of the summer, progress slowed with a random thing or another getting done when the craftsmen could volunteer a little more time. Flooring, painting, sturdy wainscoting, new lighting, new windows, new kitchen -- you should see what it's become. 

I met the boys there mid-morning to take some things and help clean. Regan was around some too and we got curious about the one remaining thing that hadn't been done: the sound system reconnected. "Everything's here," he said. "It just needs to be hooked up." The pulpit microphone had fallen silent for a long time. Now all the wiring was complete, just waiting to be connected to an interface and brought to life. The new interface unit was downstairs still in its packaging so we brought it upstairs to take a look. 

The whole idea was much simpler than I expected. Regan found a manuel and we got the thing plugged in all right. Then the magical moment when the connection was live, and with a little more tweaking, that heavy-duty microphone on the podium began to transmit everything in its range. 

Now we'll be able to hear our guys like never before, as they give Sunday school intros and lead songs. For some reason, Caleb doesn't share my enthusiasm. Speaking and singing behind a dead microphone was always a bit of a comfort to him, and now that comfort is gone. "You're going to regret it!" he declared. I guarantee we won't. 

And now it's reality: the renovations are over.

A warm, clear night gave us the perfect opportunity to see a beautiful full moon, appearing larger and brighter because it was a super moon. Since we're just days away from the autumn equinox, it was also the harvest moon. 

French class over, with our individual studies followed by number drill and singing, I'd stepped outside for a look around when I first noticed it. The super harvest moon wasn't quite round, though, because a partial lunar eclipse was also taking place. A slight shadow seemed to flatten the top of the orb. 

Sabrina and I sat out on the steps with the porch light off, enjoying the view well framed by trees and the neighbor's house across the street. Around 10:44 the shadow reached its peak coverage for this spectacle, and while it wasn't all that much, it was still cool seeing it and knowing that it's not a cloud over the moon, but the shadow of our wonderful planet.

If you were here, we'd love to take you to the Botanical Gardens some evening to see the sights and sounds of the Gardens of Light. The gardens are a wonder in the daylight, all right, and even more magical after dark in the portion lit up for self-guided tours. I copied the text below from the Espace pour la Vie calendar to give a concise overview, interspersed with my notes.

Explore a world of dreams and wonder!

For its 12th edition, Jardins de lumière has redesigned the lighting in the Japanese Garden and is offering a fairytale multimedia version of the Legend of the Butterfly Lovers in the Chinese Garden.

Upon getting our tickets scanned at the gate we walked on and entered through a special portal formed by a couple walls with large round "windows" glowing with light and mist. The first features of interest were along the walkway to the start of the tour. We came upon a grove of trees that echoed with the howling of wolves and glowed with shifting, changing lights. Across the grass are six or seven small round platforms to stand on, with a glowing plastic moon with some kind of microphone that you can howl into. If it's listening, the moon grows dim until you're done and then your input returns from the woods, mingled with the wolves' own music. Then the small moons at the platforms glow different colors as a projector casts a huge rising moon on the foliage of the trees, and then glowing wolf shapes appear below it. The effect is quite surreal. Also nearby were the square pools and fountains lit up, with the effect of flowing water projected over the walkways.

In the Japanese Garden

Refinement and sensitivity

Presented for the first time, "Yûgen* – Japanese Universe" is a beautiful homage to Japan’s islands and mountains, here visually recreated or evoked. This monumental projection uses emblematic elements of Japanese culture, such as the seven autumn plants (a symbol of the season’s ephemeral beauty), koi carp (representing strength and determination) and the harvest moon that is celebrated every year. The result is both spectacular and refined.

*Yûgen means a profound, mysterious kind of beauty.

At the entrance of the Japanese Garden is some landscaping including rock and miniature pines. A projector transformed it into a living, moving scene. Down the rock face a waterfall flowed; light on the pines created a convincing illusion of boughs waving in a wind. A hidden speaker provided the roar of the water. Looking at it long enough, it wasn't hard to imagine you were looking down from a higher mountain on a wild landscape. We continued around the backside of the building, past the courtyard with a bamboo fence and lights among the plants and trees inside. 

Next to that is the grove of tall pines with the three-quarter-ton Peace Bell by the edge, a token of friendship between Hiroshima and Montreal that is rung at the annual commemoration. Two sculptures suspended in the woods resembled the flowing lines of distant mountain horizons. Lights and mist glowed all along the top of each one. Different sounds echoed among the trees and the lights pulsed and changed. 

Then we came to a view of the ponds, lit up with projections across the water and the surrounding trees, merging reality and illusion again. In the nearby pavilion a few women behind tables sold hot tea and a variety of Japanese treats. We stopped long enough to grab a matcha cookie and followed the pathway out of the Japanese Garden.

In the First Nations Garden

The rhythm of Life

At the heart of the circle of the seasons of life, flowing endlessly one after another, the Moon marks time and sets the rhythm. Embodying the fundamental principles shared by Indigenous peoples and given voice by the words of Innu poet Joséphine Bacon and the songs of Moe Clark, the First Nations Garden’s illuminated path beckons you on an immersive and poetic journey into the circle of life.

I had seen the arch in the daytime, just a slender half-circle standing over nothing. It took on a different effect in the dark, with jets blowing mist from the whole perimeter, the mist glowing bright white. Accompanied by a voice reciting a poem in a Native language and then in French, it was an ode to the moon. 

The path led through an illuminated pole lodge to a scene beyond focused on a giant tree animated by many hidden projectors. Light and sound interpreted the seasons of life, from the magic of birth through the growth of springtime, the vibrancy of summer, autumn's colors, the icy blue light of winter, and the ending of the cycle with fire, glowing coals, and darkness. Then the drumbeats would sound again like the pulse of the earth, and the magic would return.

Inside the skeletal frame of a wigwam's shape in a woodland clearing, suspended lights glowed and flickered as it were a campfire, and another voice spoke in the darkness in a Native tongue. Glowing mist was everywhere, blue and green in the woods, and also ethereal noises. At one spot the noises sounded like heavy panting, receding and growing. I'm not sure what it meant, but it was there that hanging lamps that turned off and on were also floating up and down, thanks to the cables and pulleys invisible in the dark. Were they to emulate fireflies? Fairies? Spirits of the forest? 

Between the First Nations Garden and the Chinese Garden appeared another striking light show, one created by a big golden moon hanging just above the looming Olympic Stadium Tower, which soars to 540 feet at a 45° angle, outlined up the backside tonight in a bright blue-green. Walking a little farther, the moon came to perch at the top corner as though it would roll down the incline; then it was just a bright dome on the tower; and then it hid from view as we entered the next garden.

In the Chinese Garden

The legend of the butterfly lovers, revisited

In the middle of Dream Lake can be seen the two most famous butterflies in Chinese culture: Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai, the Chinese butterfly lovers. This touching legend, one of the most popular in Chinese culture, comes to life before our eyes in a brand-new multimedia show, comprising projections, volumetric effects, a giant water screen and much more. A poetic, delicate experience, reflecting the story of China’s most famous lovers.

We came to the Friendship Hall, the largest building in the Chinese Garden surrounded by water, lilies, and the wire and silk sculptures over the pond. The sculptures were not illuminated, as the multimedia show was already underway. I'd never seen a show like that, where the moving picture was projected from behind onto a fountain screen -- a powerful jet of water perfectly deflected upwards in the shape of a fan. Mysical landscapes evoked far-away lands. Larger than life faces gazed out at us; a beautiful young woman, a handsome young man, the silhouette of the lovers. Then the visage of an older man, disapproving; then a hand writing, and Chinese words floating off the screen. Then scenes of grief, death, transformation, and reunion, bringing to an end one of the most well-known folktales of Chinese heritage. The sculptures lit back up across the water and a voice announced the next rerun in seven minutes, so we stayed to see the whole thing. 

After the next finale we stepped into the courtyard of bonsai trees, a magical world of its own. Some were illuminated on their pedestals, and others, backlit along the walls, showed only their graceful silhouettes. We went back out the apricot blossom shaped portal and wound our way out of the Chinese Garden.

Thus ended our tour of a world of dreams and wonder. We strolled back out along the walkway, past the glowing terraced fountains, across the leaf patterns of light cast on the pavement, back along the grove of trees where wolves and people were howling, back through the glowing mist at the entry, back to the emptier parking lot. Julian was asleep in the stroller by then but Alec for a change was still enthused to run around, clutching his glowing bracelets. The boys really enjoyed carrying them around on this outing. Note to self: if we go again, make sure to take some more.

 ♦ ♦ ♦

(https://calendrier.espacepourlavie.ca/gardens-of-light) 

(https://comm-espacepourlavie.ca/experiences/jardins-de-lumiere/) 

It wasn't until we were aboveground at Station Lionel-Groulx that I discovered the café we had in mind to visit had already closed. It was just the four of us; Caleb and Tyler were busy back home putting supper together. I checked the map for anything of interest nearby and spied the Atwater Market, just an eight minute walk away.

This market has been going for at least ninety years. A lot of it is housed in a massive Art Deco style building, and a lot is set up outside it too. This afternoon there were hundreds of colorful mums on display. Like the Jean Talon market, there are many fruit and vegetable vendors, flowers, plants. We took the stroller up the stairs inside an entry and explored the great hall lined with butchers, cheese shops, bakeries, and other fine things. And down toward one end is the "Brûlerie aux quatre vents," a coffee roastery where Sabrina picked up a bag of beans and a cup to go. 

Back out of the building, we walked through the area of mums and got a good view towards Mont Royal behind the trees, buildings and the towers of the 112-year-old Saint Irenaeus Church. The guys had grilled steaks and potatoes ready by the time we arrived home.

♦ ♦ ♦

(https://www.marchespublics-mtl.com/en/marches/atwater-market/) 

(https://brulerie4vents.com/en) 

This was the third morning in the week that Audrey showed up at Welcome Hall to volunteer. "I'm on vacation this week," she said. "I wanted to get out and be with people." So this morning she was assigned to Station 6 for the food distribution and I was at number 7. We served a fair amount of people through the shift but there were slower times to chat so we got acquainted a little. 

Audrey is a young French woman from Trois-Rivières, a city halfway between here and Quebec City. Dark hair in a ponytail, dark eyes, quick smile, accented but very good English. She moved to Montreal five years ago and currently works from home, in a human relations job of some sort involving Inuit people in lands far to the north. "I don't really like working from home; I don't get out among people much. I used to have a roommate and that was nice, but now I just have a dog and he sleeps all the time." She likes the outdoors but doesn't get out much, with nobody to go along. "I wouldn't go and climb a mountain alone."

We talked about language some, and even though French is her native language, some aspects are still pretty complicated even for her. She speaks English well but reading and writing are more difficult. "Some isn't too hard, like emails and things related to my work." A while back she signed up with an English book club, and when she finally got through two chapters but had no grasp of the story itself, she called it quits and left that club for a French one. 

The guy running Station 5 and I learned a few words from her too. One example: we knew the word for purple is "violet" (vee-oh-lay). "We use the word 'mauve.' Violet is more of the bien ecrit," she said, scribbling in the air. I figured that meant the formal or well-written style. "But the Quebecois don't say 'violet.'" I tried a bit of conversation in French, asking the difference between the two words for yogurt: "yogourt" and "yaourt." The second word I had learned but practically never hear. "Yaourt is more France French. And sometimes the Quebecois call it Yoplait." She gestured to the six-packs of small yogurt drinks she was handing out. 

I find it fascinating the more I learn about it, how the French here and the French elsewhere are similar but sure have differences. The morning passed quickly with good discussions and laughs in the slow times of the food distribution. That's a fun thing about mornings at Welcome Hall; it's a good group of folks who volunteer and our experience is more colorful because of them.

The guys were enthused about some hiking so this time we went all together out to see the sights at Mont Bruno, the low mount just east of the island. We got some lunch to go from a Subway in the town right around it and set out on a long walk before we had any lunch. The outing happened much like the last time we came, just the four of us (August 24), except this time we scored a picnic table on the deck overlooking a smaller lake so that was great. 

The ancient stone mill called us across the meadow after that so we stopped by to savor its ambiance inside and get some warm drinks. This tea house is perhaps our favorite café in all the land, especially Sabrina's, whose soul just comes alive in this setting très romantique. Caleb and Tyler received their drinks before we did and they went their way shortly after, going off to find and follow the blue trail on the map, the longer "Lakes Trail" that takes a hiker past three or four in the park as well as to a side trail that climbs a high point with a view. 

We took our time and walked the gravel road around the largest lake. We stopped pretty often to check out colored leaves on the ground, plopping acorns, a new and better walking stick, or a tiny stream of water. Always the water. Alec seems to have a sixth sense for locating it and I decided if I'm ever lost in a wilderness I'll want to have him along. His main fascination is throwing stuff into it and saying "splash," a relatively new word in his lingo. Fewer leaves had changed color yet than we expected, but here and there above us floated a small random patch of red among all the green. The leaves were sparse on the trail, the first of nature's canvases, just samples of the mass production to come.

The guys' hours were more high-action, including swimming in the Birches Lake (around which are signs forbidding it, but they saw those later) and running up to the overlook where there's also a tiny ski slope and sitting on one of the lifts to enjoy the view. We took the guys on out to Roxton for a youth activity and came home after that, with a small detour to an orchard below Mont Saint Hilaire. (I can't believe the summer's gone and we haven't hiked that beautiful mountain.) 

It was a beautiful drive in from the autoroute, and with the mountain's slopes rising up behind the grounds, it was a slice of Appalachia. Here you can pick your own apples and fill a sack for $25 and browse the classy showroom. I was a little disappointed to discover that all the cider they sell, contained in glass bottles, is alcoholic to some degree. We left with a couple small pumpkins and a tiny jar of apple butter, which I had to try when we got home. It's good, not quite like the apple butter of my homeland, but it comes close.

♦ ♦ ♦

(https://www.vergerduflancnord.com/en/) 

(https://carlascanvas.com/2018/10/14/salon-the-mont-saint-bruno/) 

The guys and I returned to Roxton Falls Sunday evening for a youth meeting hosted at Hugues & Amy's. It's been a while since I've been to something like that. The youth group there is quite small, little more than a handful, and most showed up along with Alex & Adrianna, the youth leaders. We gathered in the living room and sang together for a while and devoured a snack after that. The young folks went outside to walk around and I chatted with Hugues a while. 

The backyard fence borders a large cemetery. We stepped outside and walked toward the fence undeterred by the ghoulish sounds that erupted from the darkness. The beings drew near the beam of Hugue's flashlight, leaped over the fence, and before long we Montrealers were off again down the dark country roads. 

No, we won't go all out like some rich folks nearby who (said house mama with wonder) have their outdoor stairways lined with mums and pumpkins, but if you would stop by 5385 Rue Francheville you would see three fresh mums and a couple small gourds by our entry. We picked them up this afternoon at the Jean Talon Market, which by now is slowing down from the chaas of summer. Maybe it was slower also because we arrived late in the afternoon towards closing time. Knowing we'd be bringing stuff home, we chose to drive, and parked in a spot where we shouldn't have really but no ill befell us. 

The afternoon was chilly and gray. Sabrina hardly felt dressed up for this weather, whether for practical or aesthetic reasons, but loved it all the same. We browsed the market before making two purchases: a couple tins of apple sauce, three mums. "Do you need anything else while you're here?" the vendor asked, directing our gaze to the long tabletop full of veggies. "Just a suggestion, no obligation!" We declined and soon went our way.

We checked out a small tea shop nearby yet and found boxes of tea sachets for loose leaf tea. Still to this day I haven't seen them in any other stores around here, not supermarkets. This cozy nook has many shelves lined with large tins of tea, and smaller shelves holding pottery and matcha things. We'll need to go back someday and spend some time. I added another heart to my Google Map, this time for Camellia Sinensis Boutique.

Recently I learned a phrase that I like. "Je suis débutant en français;" I am a beginner in French. No matter how far I go, I think I'll probably feel like a beginner. 

Usually on Tuesdays the guys came home for lunch and then volunteered a couple hours at the Habitat for Humanity ReStore in Montreal North. Last week was the final time there as that location closed down, leaving the main location in the St. Henri neighborhood the only Habitat place in Montreal. Arrangements were made for them to start up volunteering there. It's conveniently close to Welcome Hall, across the intersection from F&F Pizza along Rue Notre Dame. (If you don't know where F&F Pizza is, you should.) So today we went our ways after the food distribution, and the guys really enjoyed their afternoon. "We did more at that store this afternoon than we ever did at the one in Montreal North," Caleb declared. Now they have more responsibilities and interact with customers. By the time they came home, supper was about ready. 

I'd spent a while creating chicken nuggets, first cutting the chicken, breading the pieces, and covering two baking sheets. I had cut them way too small so it took some time, but I played with it meanwhile by pretending it was an art project. I ended up with two similar but different (and better yet, edible) mosaics. Sabrina made a squash mac-n-cheese thing and we had apple sauce from Jean Talon Market. I know that's all irrelevant, why do I mention it. 

It's a cool and cloudy evening so Sabrina is in the fall spirit despite being bugged by a lingering touch of sickness. Tuesday evening means French class, so we guys sit around the living room and do individual study for a while, followed by a reading exercise, a number drill, and then a small challenge of expressing a thought in French, something about the day or something random.

My sentence: "Ce soir, nous étudions le français ensemble." This evening, we're studying French together.

Caleb considers just how to put it together: "Je suis passionné de travailler à Habitat pour l'humanité." I'm passionate about working at Habitat for Humanity.

Tyler, spontaneously: "Je t'aime, ma femme. Ma femme est belle." I love you, my wife. My wife is beautiful.

When we parked in the lot of the massive IKEA on Montreal island, I thought maybe I'd found a better plane-watching spot than the small park I'd been to a while ago, situated along a runway. But I remember that spot was better, because you can watch takeoffs as well as landings. But this IKEA isn't far from the airport and the planes come over quite low, smooth and straight, except this afternoon they were wobbling a bit in the winds. The flags outside the store were flapping quite briskly and with clouds, a jacket felt good. 

Last time we went to an IKEA I stayed out in the van with the sleeping boys while Sabrina went in to explore (and find a particular light bulb). She was blown away by that first visit, just the immense scale of the place and seeing all the showrooms, so we thought maybe we should go all together sometime. Well it was fascinating. It wouldn't be hard to get lost except they have maps of the floors posted and arrows projected on the walkway to move visitors efficiently. Stuff and more stuff everywhere. Thousands of items and ideas, it was mind boggling. The boys loved it too, running from room to room, sitting on couches, trying to climb stuff, randomly plopping down in front of huge flat screens (and proclaiming "Look, I'm watching TV!"), and for sure the section with all the toys and stuffed animals. 

At the end of that tour we went downstairs, grabbed a cart, and went off to find what we were after: an actual crib for the CPS house for Alec to use. (Up until now a pack-n-play has served the purpose but there were cons to that.) We discovered a couple candles besides and called it good.

There's a coffee shop a little west of the downtown on Rue Notre-Dame called September Café. We'd only heard about it from other folks and Sabrina still had a gift card from Jon for the place. It wouldn't be quite right, she declared, if we didn't go while the month was still September. It wasn't too hard to find parking nearby and we found it to be a nice vibey place as described. Julian loved his cup of hot chocolate. Sabrina ordered an iced chai for me and a special latte for herself, and we shared a giant matcha cookie. Cold and rain of the morning had given way to bright skies and sunshine lighting up the street and the tree outside the large window. It was a fine September moment. 

♦ ♦ ♦

Aux Quatre Points Cardinaux: "Travel-centric retailer offering globes & maps, plus GPS systems, books & games." The name means "At the Four Cardinal Points," the four directions on a compass. 

I'd first seen this corner shop one morning when dropping off two buddies near a bus station. Huge maps hung behind a couple of the windows. "That looks like a really neat place," we said, and later I flagged it on my phone for a visit in the future. I saw it a while later when Sabrina and I were cruising the city on Bixi bikes one memorable afternoon. We pedaled up that street but the door was locked. Now that we were downtown on such a nice afternoon, this was the time. 

That shop is a treasure trove for travelers and adventurers (dreamers too). I'm not sure I've ever seen so many maps and guides in one place, Destination Anywhere in the World. And globes of all kinds -- big ones mounted in four-legged frames, smaller ones that light up inside, regular ones, globes for children. Other stuff for children too like puzzles, books, and toys. There's a showcase of various GPS tools and nice compasses, and a small section of nonfiction and travel journals.

The back room is dedicated to wall maps of many kinds. Even back there are racks upon racks of folded, laminated maps, countless guides, Lonely Planet publications, and even an assortment of special tacks for marking places on a map. One part is loaded with maps for navigation and logbooks for sailing. A worker spread a few wall maps out on the countertop to show us variations of a certain style displayed nearby, a world map with up-to-date info but in an old-fashioned design. We chose the one we thought would best grace the CPS living room wall, and she rolled it up and wrapped it in paper for us. The boys were anxious to go and I know I didn't see all there was to browse, but one day I will.

♦ ♦ ♦  

(https://septembersurf.com/pages/cafe) 

(https://aqpc.com/en/) 

We found a spot to park the Pilot near Station St. Michel, the eastern terminus of the blue line of the metro, and rode eleven stops down the line to Snowdon on the other end, intersecting with the orange line. This makes for a lot of traffic through the station just like the other hubs, Jean-Talon, Lionel-Groulx, Berri-UQAM. There's one harp in this station, along a corridor toward near the entrance, and here we met with Regan's and waited to start singing until the Alexandria group arrived, along with Colin & Denise Unruh. 

That was a good singing for sure. We made the tunnel ring. And like other times singing at a station on the west side of the city, there was good response throughout the hour. Some stopped to listen for quite a while. At the end of one song, a voice floated up to us from somewhere, a voice singing in English the chorus of the song we'd finished. A lot of young folks passed by too and a few picked out a tract. At the end of the French version of Just As I Am, a girl who had stopped to listen wanted to know the title of that song, and Regan gave her one of the metro singing books. It's always interesting when folks take interest; probably more do than show it. You never know how it might resonate in their hearts long after.

Like another time with the Alexandria group, we belted out Fill Up My Cup by heart and really filled the station with music. Turns out it was the last song, as an agent came by and noticed the tract rack with the box base where people toss coins in and said such a setup was unacceptable inside the wickets. The literature part anyway. I'm not sure what all he said to Colin who was nearby but apparently he saw it as solicitation. So at the end of the memory song the books were gathered up and that was that. Supper was at CPS with the firepit blazing in the back yard for the youth to sit around, and we couples dined on the patio and had good conversation. Thus was our last metro singing with the Toews family in Montreal.

It's a yearly tradition, the Saturday song service that includes and rotates between the Roxton Falls, Alexandria, and Fingerlakes congregations. Now Granite Hills (Vermont) is included. The meeting took place out at Roxton Falls so we enjoyed the drive out through that country again, noticing the subtil changes in the colors of the forests as the brilliance starts to unfold. 

The afternoon was cool and fresh. The small church's doors and windows were open to the sweet air so indoors it was comfortable all through the service. It wasn't a big one, just some congregational singing, special numbers, a short lecture by Keith Wedel on the topic (Grace of God), more special songs, and songs by all the youth at the end. A warm supper of chili and cinnamon rolls was dished up at the community center down in the village. It was so neat getting to see some of those folks again that came from afar, some old friends and new. How paths can cross over the years truly is fascinating. 

We didn't stay very long into the evening. Caleb and Tyler had a change of clothes along for volleyball later and caught a ride home later at night.

Fog over the island burned off and it was one bright and marvelous day. Somehow I didn't feel the part. We enjoyed a good church service together. The visitor from Alexandria brought some thoughts on faith and trust, reading an account of Thomas after Jesus' resurrection. Caleb took the opportunity to bring his sermonette (which is required of each guy at some time during their term). As the service came to an end with a few final songs, the air seemed to grow heavy with melancholy and tears were shed at the closing. I stepped out on the back porch where the sun was bright on the reddening leaves of the creeping vine on the porch railing. It was beautiful, but it was sad. How will it be from here on?

We planned a farewell get-together for the evening, and a lot of the church attendees showed up here for that, like Emile, Anu & Merica and their five children, and Akli and his wife. Roxton folks came: Marc & Gayle, Kelsey & Julia, Keith & Karen. It was a nice group. They all brought something for the supper so the variety was a good one. Kelsey's had been in Chinatown earlier and stopped by a patisserie for a Japanese cheesecake and another exotic bread. Akli's brought a box of dates and an Algerian cake. A kettle of spiced cider on the stove sweetened the atmosphere. We ate together and later when all but the Roxton guests had gone home, some of us sang for a short while. Then it was just Regan's and us for the rest of the late evening, complete with the occasional dramas of the children and capped off with farewells. When will we see each other again? 

Someday, somewhere. Our home in Pennsylvania and their home are about 2,200 miles apart so who can tell just how it will come to be. Their replacements as missionaries in Montreal don't arrive until December, so from here it looks like a long two months ahead, just us. I must confess I feel a bit anxious sometimes, but my good wife says it will turn out fine. Please send up prayers for us if you feel to!

The last day of September was bright and clear like the previous day. For us it was low key, just the usual continuation of routines, making a couple runs through the day, recovering a little from the weekend's rush. We could have stayed home in the evening (the little boys need all the sleep they can get) but were suddenly inspired to go see the Gardens of Light. 

We got in early this time and enjoyed the tour all over again. Julian and Alec wore their glow bracelets and loved it. I won't go into detail about the tour -- check out September 18 if you want -- but a new addition to this attraction is a more kid-friendly feature, a pumpkin maze set up among trees with hanging lanterns and fun stuff. Then once more we howled with the wolves, explored the Japanese Garden, savored the somewhat creepy woods, the First Nations Garden with its mist, lights, voices in the darkness, and ended up in the Chinese Garden to see the projection of the Butterfly Lovers legend on the water screen shooting up from the pond. 

And so we said farewell to September. It was one beautiful month in Montreal. Farewell also to the first six months of our time here, part one you could say. Already we are half done, how can it be. And farewell to our friends who head far and away to the west tomorrow, leaving this memorable city behind. Their friendship and kindness made our lives richer and the memories will never fade.

♦ ♦ ♦

And thank you for keeping up with our story this far! Moving on into the second half of it, I expect my reporting will become lower key and there may be the occasional pause. But do stay in touch and I'll be glad to tell you about the good things still waiting to happen.