The Grey Bus

One evening while we were walking to our hotel after having a wonderful dinner at Mongo's, we noticed a cement school bus sculpture.  We thought that it would be fun to take some silly pictures there, but after we read the sign for the bus, we couldn't imagine doing it anymore.

The Grey Bus is a monument to the mentally and physically handicapped people who were annihilated by the Nazis during WWII.  There is one bus that is permanently located in Ravensburg.  This photo is of the second one that travels the route to Grafeneck. Cologne is on that route, and the bus arrived here in 2011.

We returned to Canada on December 14th, the same Friday that so many children were killed in Newtown, Connecticut.  Pictures of the Grey Bus now will always remind me of this tragedy too.

Neither event will ever make sense to me.

Snow Day

We had the most delightful sight to look at each morning and evening out our window. We faced the Rhine river, and looked out towards the grand Cologne Cathedral and the Hohenzollem bridge.  It's a beautiful sight, and it was a pleasure to watch the trains cross the bridge, or the cruise ships and barges going underneath it.  There was a lone kayaker some days.  Even the night lighting added a bit of beauty to it. It lacked a little something on snow days though.  All four of these pictures were taken from our window.  What a difference a day made!

We were undaunted.  On this Saturday, we chose to leave the crowded city of Cologne, where no less than 15 river cruises had docked near the market.  We knew that it would be overrun with people, and well, we're not really the crowd-loving type.

The snow and the fog made for a magical morning as we rode the train.  The country itself is lovely, but there is just something about fog blanketed trees that speaks to me.   I love the mystery of it all.

We travelled to Koblenz, a city whose name means "at the merging of rivers".  Koblenz is situated at the point where the Mosel river (on the right) meets the Rhine river (on the left). The old part of the city was delightful, and it is where the market was held.  We walked on centuries-old cobblestone, drank glühwein with the locals, and peeked at some of the crafts for sale.

After that, we walked to the Kaiser Wilhelm memorial, a monstrous statue but a lovely lookout point.  We saw one of the river cruise boats navigate the turn, and it was quite interesting to see how they did it.  We walked to the point along the Rhine, and back again along the Mosel.

During the time we were there, this lovely gentleman played traditional Christmas carols for us on his accordion.  He was really quite good, and I appreciated his efforts very much.  What I especially loved was that he did it just for the joy of it, he wasn't accepting any donations at all.  Now, that's the Christmas spirit!

Love locks on the Hohenzollern

Hohenzollernbrücke is the train bridge that goes across the Rhine river.  From our hotel to the cathedral is roughly 1.5 km, and the entire bridge is covered by locks of all shapes and sizes  (though I did notice that there are many Abus aluminum locks, probably because they come in jewel-tone colours).  

Some of the locks were engraved with names and dates.  Others, like ours, were simple padlocks labeled with sharpie markers.  Almost everyone tried to do something that would make their lock stand out--I thought that adding a green ribbon to ours would make it more visible but apparently so did 2500 other people.    The strangest locks included an actual door panel riveted to the bridge frame, some large aluminum hearts chained to the fence, and some bicycle chains that were piggy-backed by all the locks attached to it. Someone even chained a small grinder to the bridge. 

We walked that bridge at least twice a day, and it never ceased to be interesting. We always saw couples adding a lock and tossing the keys into the river.  We saw people searching for a lock, older people leaning on each other reading the inscriptions, young people taking pictures.  I found myself wondering if anyone ever came to take a lock off the bridge if things didn't work out. 

There were far too many locks, in my opinion, that had Martin's name.  It's a real comfort though to know that only one matters.  It's on the hotel side of the bridge, right where the bank is, on the panel with the frog lock in the top right corner.  I don't know if I'll ever get back to Cologne, but I want to remember where to look. 

Cologne in December

We have been in Köln, Germany for a couple of days. It's been wet and cold and drizzly and rainy and sleety and damp and can't-quite-warm-up weather, but it's been fantastic. We have come mostly for the Christmas markets which we are enjoying. It's quite a culture, and it's all about being together, even though there is also a significant commercial aspect.

There are six markets here, of which I have seen four. Each market has its own character. There is one based around gnomes, another has an angel, the largest is based around the cathedral, and the fourth features Grimm's fairy tale characters. Many of the characters are placed on the roofs of the little Christmas villages. There is an ice rink in one, and all of them have carousels with horses and carriages.
It's a feast of smells too. Grilled bratwurst, currywurst and Weisswurst cozy up to the biggest vats of sauerkraut I have ever seen. People wait in lines for fresh potato pancakes and applesauce or for crepes and waffles, or mushrooms sautéed in butter, garlic and caraway. More people line up for souvenir mugs of glühwein, and each market has their own mug design. It is possible to take them home, or return them for a refund. There are spiced cookies, spice stalls and spiced nuts. Pretzels of all kinds are everywhere.

It"s a friendly atmosphere too, where the idea is to mingle and wish a happy Christmas to other revellers. Cozy on up to the table if you can find a spot, say hello, raise a toast and enjoy. There is quite a bit of Christmas music, some of it live. My favourite so far was the children's choir we heard on the first day. This morning the sun is warming the old cathedral with tinges of pink. It looks like the clouds are moving in again, so I must go.

As much as I like it here, I have had enough of being wet...but, at least I am learning how to order my coffee because of it.

Memory-making at the lake

A few weeks ago I visited one of my favourite people.  She and her husband live in a house by a lake, and my goodness, what a lovely place.  Every morning I would wrap myself up in several blankets and sit on their amazing sun porch just to witness the world waking up.  Morning light would ease its way in, painting the shadows with mauve and blue, tinges of rose.  The resident heron would call to the hawk, the hawk would echo back to the heron, a loon would add a comment or two and then someone made Arpeggio Boy get out of bed.  Once he started singing, everyone else did too and it was as magical as the cup of coffee that quietly appeared around the same time.  When the sun came up more, the fall colours decorated the lake edge.  It was easy to say that God lives there.

We took a little girl to the zoo, which is always a happy place for me.  They have a baby giraffe, and an important meerkat community.  We took the boat out on the lake, and it was a glorious day.  It was warm enough for turtle families to sun themselves on the logs.  I'd never seen that before.  The lake is full of heron, and my only regret is that I never got a great picture of them, but it wasn't for lack of trying and that is much of the fun.  We went as fast as we could, and it was a genuine delight for me.

We did other things too--we made pie and cookies, talked over oatmeal at the breakfast counter, and eventually I made friends with the dogs.  We had the best meals, things I don't have often so I appreciated them even more.  As lovely as all those things were however, the best was to sit together with mugs of Earl Grey in hand.  We talked, we laughed, we talked some more. Each pot of tea led to another, each story wove into the next.

This was a visit to celebrate friendship, to capture memory moments.  Thank you Nancy and Jim, for celebrating with me.  It was the loveliest time.

Home again

I went back to see my family last month, after too long away.  There were some beautiful moments--brunch with my mom, shopping for a coat with my dad. Breakfast with one brother, lunch with my sister.  I saw my youngest niece and realized again how beautiful she is.  She has changed so much since we last hung out, but it was a joy to have this time with her.  We talked about some serious stuff, cooked dinner together, went for a long walk. They were precious moments that came on the heels of some time to talk with my kid brother.  All rare things with me living several provinces away.

I enjoyed a zoo day with my niece, her daughter, and a very good friend.  The Edmonton zoo is tiny, but when you're six it's big enough for adventure.  What a blessing my grand-niece is.  She is a polite girl, full of joy coloured with a wee bit of mischief.  I am so proud of my niece who has chosen to put the happiness of her children above all else.  It hasn't been easy but she is making it work and because I see the kids so seldom, it is a joy to realize what a great job she is doing.

The rest of the visit included a few visits with friends--and sadly, there is never enough time to see them all.  I sat with a few new friends, listened to their stories, and thought again how blessed I am. I have people who love me on both sides of the country, and have made choices for a life that makes me happy.  I don't know why it is that it takes so long for us humans to sort that out.  I only know that it is such a gift when we do.

One of my favourite moments on the trip was after zoo day, when the four of us went out for noodles.  My grand-niece corrected us after a comical prayer and offered to show us how to do it properly.  After insisting that we close our eyes, she began with great solemnity.

"God", she said and then paused for a long time before continuing.  "Thank you for the world so sweet, thank you for the food we eat".

At this point, I was able to join in and help her finish with "Thank you for the birds that sing.  Thank you God, for everything".

What struck me most was that pause, that moment of making sure she was ready to have this conversation.  I imagined my grandmother beaming at it all.  And I promised myself to start paying attention like that in the future.

Days when you know you matter

Some days its easy to feel like you haven't made a difference in anyone's lives.  Those days are lies.

Other days remind you that in fact, you have made a contribution to the world.  These days are truth.

After our trip to Boston, it was our great pleasure to attend the wedding of two young friends, Andrea and Matt.  The wedding was held at a church camp, and the guests' attire ranged from sundresses to khaki shorts, ties to tee shirts.  We gathered around an arbour festooned with brown-eyed-susans, a semi-circle where camp songs are sung around fires.  It so reflected their personalities.

Matt, the moms, the attendants all walked towards us down an aisle of grass and pebbles.  Andrea and her dad chose a route that God had carved with the river.  It was so perfect, so them.

For me though, the most poignant moment wasn't the vows (though they were wonderful) or the trio (though they played beautifully) or when Andrea lifted her foot up as Matt kissed her (we all laughed)  or even when her grandfather pronounced them man and wife.

No, the moment that touched me most was when Andrea got out of the rowboat, walked with her dad and her flower girl to the arbour but stopped along the way to split her bouquet so it could be shared with women who have impacted her life.

She gave the first piece to me.   This is the same young woman who sends me a mother's day card every year.
___
Thank you, my friend.  You have no idea what this has meant to me.  Take care of each other, and may the Lord bless and keep you.  Always.

Quiet moments

Some things are too special to commit to blog posts, but I know that I'll never forget them.  The day that ended talking with a woman I admire more than I can say while we watched the sun set was one of those treasures.

Thank you Kathy. I'm posting this two months late, but I remain blessed, still.  

Kind of a Hogwarts moment

Some of my very favourite travel memories are brought about by surprise. Several years ago, we discovered the Needle's Eye, and it was a fantastic adventure that would not--could not--have had the same effect on me if we had planned it ahead of time.

The Boston Tea Party Museum was another such surprise.

I have to be honest here--I'm a bit cheap when it comes to admission prices for things, and at $27 a person, it is unlikely that I would have chosen to go in.  Oh, I get that it's hard to keep museums and special attractions afloat without a source of income, but while I want to support such ventures, it's hard to swallow a $60 expense for the privilege of walking in the door.  So often it just isn't worth it.

There were three of us however, and we had just enough time to go to the museum before we had to check out of the hotel.  It won by virtue of being close, I think. And it was terrific.

The tour guides were all in period costume and took on personalities of the day.  They were knowledgeable and fun, and very good at inciting us to riot.  We were given feathers for our caps--a sign that we were revolutionaries, after all, and character cards so we'd know who we were representing.  After agreeing to take part in the revolution, to never drink British tea again and to show our support to never buy British products again,  we went down to the boat, and there the guys really got into throwing the tea overboard.

After they exerted their muscles, we were all guided into another part of the museum where there was a holographic movie, more opinions from the people.  There was another display after that, where we all listened to the great granddaughter of someone who happened to save the very very last tea box from the big day.  Okay, this part was a little silly actually, for the tea box was given such reverence--a rotating stand with special lighting, a voice over to hear about the box.

After that though, we turned around to see the portrait gallery, and this by far, was my favourite moment.  Framed like the other portraits, but not at all the same, the King of England and Sam Adams (the guy, not the beer) started debating the issues.  The portraits came alive a la Hogwarts, and it was so well done.  Following that was a movie about Paul Revere's ride.  I was so glad to see that the King and Sam Adams hadn't actually changed into other actors.  Somehow, that would have ruined it for me.

It was the last adventure, but it was great.  Go see it.

Freedom Trail

In Boston, we stayed in the Financial District because we had such a short time in the city, and we wanted to walk the Freedom Trail.  Our hotel was just a few blocks away, but we ended up taking a cab to the beginning of it.  To start out, we had a fantastic lunch at Legal Seafood. Of course, I had to have Boston clam chowder and it was great,  but my goodness, what a rich dish.

We went to the beginning of the trail, and started to follow the red (mostly) brick trail through the city.  I especially enjoyed looking at the gravestones in the Granary Burying Ground, which was established in the 1600s.  This is where John Hancock, Samuel Adams and Paul Revere are buried.  There are pebbles and pennies on Paul Revere's headstone.  The pebbles are a tradition that shows someone was there to remember the person buried, and I may adopt that.  On Paul Revere's grave though, there are also pennies, a tribute to his contribution to the copper industry.

We saw the site of the Boston Massacre, at the Old State House.  At the bookstore, I needed to find out more about this incident, which was a foreshadowing of the American Revolution.  The British apparently call this "Incident on King Street".  Even the respective names highlight the issues at that time.  Essentially, five people were killed, six were injured, and two British soldiers were convicted of manslaughter with reduced sentences of branding on their hands. There may not have been enough to go around, but if there was, it wasn't about to be shared.

I would like to return to Faneuil Hall and the nearby Quincy Market.  We weren't hungry after our lunch so we didn't linger amongst all the food stalls, and Faneuil Hall was stifling hot, but there was a lot of things to see at this shopping district.  Outside, street dancers had gathered quite a crowd.

The North End is a fantastic neighbourhood and if when I return, I would very much like to explore it more.  The streets are old and unstable crooked beasts, but they are enveloped by scents of garlic and tomatoes from the Italian restaurants that all seem to have won awards.  Some restaurants had lineups down the block.  We had been watching people carrying white and blue boxes from Mike's Pastry, so when we saw it, I wanted to see what made them so popular.   Mike's sells cannolis in all kinds of flavours, but they also have crazy lineups of people waiting to get their own box.  We tried them, and I thought they were pretty good, but I wish that we had shared them instead.  I think that cannolis appeal to the cheesecake club...I'm not a member.  Still, I'm glad I tried them, and I probably would go back.

Another highlight was seeing the Old North Church.  This church is home to the steeple where Paul Revere's signal of two lanterns indicated that the British were arriving by water.  It sparked the American revolution.

I'd wanted to visit Boston for many years, and it didn't disappoint.   I'd like to go back sometime, as there is much more to explore.  It's a smallish city with a big personality.   It wouldn't be hard to people watch on the Rose Kennedy Greenway for hours on end.   Boston was bittersweet though.  I love our yearly trip together, and it's always a bit sad when it ends.  Boston marked the last stop for 2012.

There once was a girl in Nantucket...

Our adventure to Nantucket began with a drive to Hyannis Port where, I'm proud to say, I learned how to eat a raw oyster.  I now know that the problem I had the first time was not because the oyster was raw, but because it hadn't been fully detached.  No wonder I choked!  Not this time though.  The lovely waitress at The Naked Oyster made sure that I had a lovely experience if I was brave enough to try it again.  Oh, it was fresh and wonderful.  Although I tried twice more on our trip, they failed to measure up to this burst of sweet and salty brilliance.  The bar has been set.

After lunch, we caught the fast ferry to the island of Nantucket.  I've never been good at limericks, but I do remember that they often highlighted Nantucket and not usually in the best of ways.  Such a shame for Nantucket is a delightful place and we didn't have nearly enough time.  Steeped in history, there are several different kinds of cobblestone on the streets. I would have liked the time to figure out which streets are oldest.

Nantucket was a blend of ocean air, hydrangeas and hibiscus.   It is both romantic and touristy.   I think that I would enjoy it tremendously if we had more time to explore on shoulder season.   There is much to see, lots of little shops to explore, and fortunately for us, Sweet Inspirations.  The chocolate covered cranberries are wonderful, but better still are the salted caramels. I'm a sucker for artisan chocolate and the bulk of our  Nantucket dollars were spent here.

Nantucket...you'll see us again when we can spend more time getting acquainted.

Lessons from the Labyrinths

We rented a yurt at the  Harmony Hill Retreat Centre.   The Retreat is far away from pretty much anything.  As a nice relaxing place to unwind it was perfect, particularly after our close encounter with the creatures. 

I have a dear friend who is fond of labyrinths.  I had never walked one before, and I was quite interested.  I always thought that a labyrinth and a maze were the same thing, but as I learned on a walk through a maze later in the trip, they are not.  My friend equated the walking of a labyrinth with prayer.  It is one long continuous path towards a focal point at the centre, whereas a maze has several false turns and stops that force one to backtrack often.  On this trip, we found two to walk. 

The labyrinth at  Heritage Museums and Gardens (where, by the way, we saw a fascinating exhibit of Norman Rockwell's work) is a 7-circuit design, and wound around trees in the garden.  This design is very calming, and it is possible to walk it without needing to pay attention.   It goes in a long continuous circle, although it is designed like two intertwined coils. 

The labyrinth at Harmony Hill is (I think) an 11-circuit design, and is the first one I have ever stepped on.  I chose to walk it first by myself. My friend had indicated that sometimes it is hard to concentrate and I found this to be true.  The path appeared to head directly to the centre and while sometimes it came tantalizingly close, there were many twists and turns that took me far away before I arrived.  Needing to concentrate on the path was very relaxing for me, and I appreciated the experience very much.

The next day, the guys walked it with me.  This was completely different.  There was enough distraction that more than one of us lost our place.  It was faster and noisier and harder to concentrate. In fact, it was a bit chaotic, even though we had the same goal.  I realized that I would have to walk this labyrinth many times before I could do it without concentrating on it.

Just two of us walked it again before we left.   What fascinated me was how different the experience was again.  Yes, we were on exactly the same path, but we didn't travel at the same speed.  Consequently, there were moments when we were walking one in front of the other, then side by side, and once we were at completely opposite ends of the circle.  There were times when we looked to be going in different directions, even though we were headed to the same place.   And, because he left the centre before I did, there was even a moment of direct conflict, as one had to step off the path in order to let the other continue on it.

It occurred to me that many relationships are like this.  Those that are the strongest, the most fulfilling, are the ones that we concentrate on.  It takes intentionality as we walk along the path towards the common goal of loving and caring for each other.  Sometimes one walks ahead of the other, sometimes we appear to be at odds when we're not, and other times, the path encourages us to walk side by side in support of each other.

I am going to seek out more labyrinths.  I want to be able to recognize the same path when I see it.

Photo Finish

I've never gone to the horse races before.  I remember watching Secretariat race once on television.  My grandmother was watching it and I remember how fond she was of horses.  I've loved horses ever since...from a distance.  They still kind of freak me out up close.  As a kid, my sister and I went on a trail ride once.  I remember walking was boring, that cantering was painful, but galloping,  well, that was as close to flying as one could get.  I fell in love with Seabiscuit when the movie came out.  But I'd never seen horses race live before.

Oh, it was an exciting day.  We went to Saratoga Springs Racetrack, which displays a carnival atmosphere before you even get in.  From the ticket lineup to the clubhouse, there were little kiosks and music and carnival smells.  Since we reserved trackside seating in the restaurant, we made our way there and were absolutely delighted with our seats.

We arrived in time for lunch and Dave tried to explain how to read the race card, what to look for, what the various codes meant.   Being the brave gamblers that we all are, we each had a $20 limit.  How did we do?  Let's just say that one of us retained enough to treat the other two to ice cream for the rest of the week.  

There were some thrilling moments--in the second race, Solitaire lost to Hangover Kid in a photo finish.  See how close they were?   The difference was only in the timing of their stride and which forefeet landed first.  I cheered with everyone else, urging these horses towards the finish line directly in front of our table. That was part of the fun, but not part of the joy.  The joy was found in witnessing beautiful creatures run full out.

It's how I want to run my own race, to give it everything I've got, whether I win in the end or not.

Of mice and....mice

First stop on our annual not-quite-camping vacation  took us to a little cabin tucked away in a New York state forest.  Truth be told, it was away from many things, but that suited us. The cabin had seen better days, true, but then, so have a great many other cabins.  This one had three bedrooms, a kitchenette, a nice little porch table to eat at.  

It also had a few mouse traps.  Dave had arrived first, and had been told that the kids from the last family that stayed there, left the door open and it was possible a mouse had gotten inside.  They apologized,  but since they weren't certain, Dave said okay.  

We cooked supper, did the dishes, went to bed.  In the morning, we were readying to do breakfast dishes, when Dave opened the cupboard door under the sink and found the remains of the critter who had not been there the night before. 

As unsettling as that was, we were glad that we didn't have to worry about the mouse anymore. 

That evening however, as we three were settled in for a quiet evening after a very full day adventuring, it became clear that there wasn't just one mouse.  Our initial gasp sent it scurrying away again, through a hole in the wall that went into the room that I had slept in the night before.  While the guys were in there trying to find it, another mouse crossed the room.  He went right to the mousetrap, moved it several inches, and ... honestly, I don't remember what happened to him after that. 

Except that it wasn't THAT.  Not yet. 

The guys put a wine cork in a hole in the floor right under the bed I had slept in.  They put a water bottle in the wall where he had gone through.   Nonetheless, I was not going to sleep in that room again.  No, I laid claim to the top bunk in the other room.  Even then, it took a while to quit imagining that I was hearing scurrying sounds.   I'm not actually sure that I was imagining,  but it was the only way I was going to be able to sleep, so let's just leave it at that. 

Those imagined sounds may have been preferable to the loud whack we all heard an hour or so later.  Being dutiful men, the guys went out to check and sure enough, THAT had happened.  Two mice down. 

In the morning, I walked to the office and quietly complained.  I explained that they didn't have one mouse, they had a mouse infestation.  We knew of at least three.  I explained about the hole in the floor, the thought that they were coming in under the kitchen sink, the unfortunate task the guys had of removing not one, but two mice.  I suggested that they give Dave a significant refund. 

After explaining that they'd had an appointment with an exterminator who didn't show up, that they really thought there was only one (and a few other excuses that I really wasn't letting her get away with), the manager asked me what I thought would be reasonable. 

"Look", I said, "I'm a fifty-year old woman who spent the night on the top bunk for pete's sake.  FREE sounds good to me, but since we did use your linens I'll leave it to your sense of honour." 

It's only because she completely refunded us for the two nights that I am not saying where that cabin is. She did her best to make it right, she promised not to rent the cabin again until the problem was fixed.  They don't deserve the negative publicity. 

But they don't deserve positive publicity either.   

In fact, I'd just like to forget about them altogether. 

The castle called again

It's become a bit of a pilgrimage.  Long-time friends, newer friends, and friends-yet-to-be await me at the castle.  Each June we gather, tell stories, invent characters, laugh at our follies, learn from our mentors.

This year was the same, but better. God breathes life into the sandstone sculptures around the castle, dances with them in the morning light, sharpens them during the brightness of the midday sun and when evening comes, softens them with clouds bogging goodnight.

Every year, Angie--sweet, humble, gentle, precise Angie--cries because her heart is so full.  She teaches honestly and without apology.  She is a gem of a woman, and this year I grew to love her more.

Every year, Nancy--lovely, funny and oh so wise Nancy--stands up and provides backup to the theme song for the year.  She wanted to be a backup singer for the Supremes in another life.  She is fearless. She intentionally spends time with people, engaged and focused.  It isn't easy, and she does it with grace.

And every year, Kathy--quiet, nature loving, hike the hills Kathy--speaks from her heart the profound truths she learns on her walks.   She gives of herself in 20 minute bursts of brilliance.  Everyone who spends this one-on-one time with her walks away with something they can apply to their writing immediately.  She grasps concepts and story lines with astonishing speed.   She zeros in on weaknesses and strengths, and she does it all with such humility and kindness.

There are others, of course.  Mark who was my mentor this year.   Sue, who first invited me there.  Lee, who made me smile just by walking in the room.  Amy and her mom.  Kay and Loretta.  These are my people,  my friends.

I almost didn't go this year.  I literally decided to at the last minute.  For me, it was the best year yet.  I've learned that I belong at this place, with these people, learning these things, sharing these dreams and hurts and challenges.   The last thing we do as a group is sing "You are important to me.  I need you to survive".  We hug, we cry, we say "see you next time."   I am inspired and encouraged.  I am blessed.


As I was preparing this post yesterday, a fire broke out in Colorado Springs.  Our beloved castle has been evacuated, and I am so grateful that everyone is safe.  The fire though--2500 acres, zero containment--seeks to devour more.  One of the saddest things for me to read on twitter last night was "deer and other wildlife running in a panic through the forest".

I am praying for the people of Colorado today, and especially for my Glen Eyrie.  You are important to me. I need you to survive.

Eight years, day four

It is kind of sad to be leaving our getaway place.  I am not about to give up one last go in the massage tub, so I start my day with a glorious hour there. To my surprise (but not to Martin's) I actually fall asleep!   As I am drying my hair, Martin comes to get me.

"Hurry or you'll miss them", he says so I come out with hair all askew and he takes me to the balcony and points across the lake.  Two deer are crossing the ice and it is breathtakingly beautiful.  I care not that my hair is every which way and that it's probably not going to get a lot prettier than that.  I grab my camera and watch.

They are tentative, slipping here and there.  Sometimes, I hear a loud cracking sound, and I realize that it is the ice responding to them.  It has been warmer than usual, and the ice is not very thick.  We comment that we hope they will not fall in.   One tentatively gets a few feet ahead of the other, and then returns to make sure his buddy is okay.  It is still early; the fog had lifted just an hour before so everything was in silhouette.  Step. Stumble.  Crack. Pray. Check.

We watch them for the better part of a half hour.  Reaching the bank, they bound over a shrub and disappear as though nothing of importance has just happened.

***************

Two weeks have passed since that day.  I watch the video, look at the pictures.  They are grainy because of the low light, a bit blurry because I didn't use a tripod.  They certainly wouldn't factor in any photography contest.

As a life lesson though, they couldn't be more perfect.

Step.  Stumble.  Crack.  Pray.  Check.

Eight years, day three

There was much for me to be excited about for day three.  Ever since I was small, I have loved sleigh rides (even though once, for my birthday I was chasing after it and tripped in a hoof print and smashed my nose on the wagon).  I had wanted one for our wedding, but we just couldn't make it work, and in the end it was just as well because the temperature with the wind chill had been in the -40C area.

Brilliant Julien (from the hotel) helped me find a place for the ride, and we chose Ferme Duquette near Val-David.   Martin asked what we were doing, and I tossed out that we were zip-lining, but I am not sure he heard me say that I was totally lying, so I suspect he was a wee bit nervous as I made him drive 45 minutes away from the hotel.   The weather could not have been more perfect but I made sure that we had warm (if somewhat mismatched) clothes.

The two horses were gorgeous (Belgians I think), and oh how beautifully they were trained!  A click or a whisper from the driver was all it took for them to do his bidding.   Bundled up in the back, we drove right past the amusing WOAH sign, and into the forest.  The horses were so familiar with the 5 km sleigh-only trail and seemed to know instinctively when to speed up in order to crest the hill.   Consequently, the ride was smooth as  chocolate mousse. The swoosh of the runners was accompanied by the delicate clicks and trills of chickadees.  The gang of flirty woodpeckers were a surprise because I always thought they were solitary birds.   It was bright and crisp, but we were warm enough under the blankets.  We smiled, the whole way.

We got a bit lost on the drive home because the instructions I printed from google for the back roads had street names that didn't match, and the GPS couldn't pick up a signal.  It was all part of the adventure, but that is when I started to get cold.  With only a half tank of gas, in a rural area of Quebec where it can be a bit more difficult to understand the colloquial French, we did not want to get truly lost.    So we backtracked a bit, picked up the highway again and returned to the hotel.  It didn't take long to get warmed through with the massage tub and the fireplace!  We followed that up by more reading out loud (get that book, please).

A more perfect day cannot be imagined!

Eight years, day two

It was cloudy and grey on our anniversary.  We awoke to ice fog on the lake, and a chill in the room since the fire had gone out.  This was quickly remedied by a hot shower followed by a leisurely coffee in the restaurant.   The continental breakfast that greeted us did so with baskets of croissants and chocolatines-that-had-absolutely-no-calories-or-guilt-attached,  colourful bowls of berries, and plates of salty, sharp or creamy cheeses.  House granola and thick yogurt rounded out the buffet table but we could also order from the menu.  My buckwheat crepes were beautifully presented with a confetti of finely diced fruit salad and a shiny drizzle of honey.  It was a lovely way to begin the day.  We talked about what it was like, 8 years ago:  how people in our church adopted us and made it special, how bitterly cold it had been, how much fun it was to have Amy and Brodie as the flower girl and ring bearer.  We talked too about what we would do to celebrate our 25th and our 50th.  Dreaming, appreciating, loving the moment.

The cabriolet took us to the top of the mountain afterwards, making it easy to poke through stores as we meandered back down.  It was too foggy to go to the summit, but we did enjoy watching the skiers come down in lyrical fashion  (I never had that kind of grace when I tried to ski.  I was the girl who forgot that you're supposed to swerve left, swerve right on the way down.  True to form, I chose the most direct approach straight down the hill, with less than desirable results).

The stores at Mt. Tremblant are expensive, but there are some lovely things to look at.  We however, limited our purchases to the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Company, where we indulged in chocolate covered strawberries.  Quite accidentally, they have become another anniversary tradition and we took a half dozen to go.

We   I decided that we were going to indulge in one of the spa services that the hotel offers.  We  I chose a couples massage, right in front of our fireplace in the room.   We  I chose the music (The 6 Suites for Solo Cello, Antonio Janigro) and we  I loved every single moment.  There is nothing so wonderful, in our my opinions as a person who really understands muscles and tension, and more importantly, how to relieve them.  We I gave in and relaxed as many muscles as would give their permission. ***

Afterwards we sat in front of the fire, each of us reading.  There is something comforting about experiencing each other's quiet and being okay with  it.

Every year for our anniversary we enjoy a tasting menu so of course we knew that there was a great meal to look forward to.   We were surprised however to be taken through the kitchen into a small round room. Our dinner was going to be completely private, lit by candles in each of the windows while we looked out on snowy paths warmed by lanterns and white lit trees.  We listened to familiar jazz melodies sung beautifully in French, and our meal was delightful.  We started with stuffed mushrooms, a salmon tartar sushi-style roll, and a perfect scallop with the most whimsical presentation.  It was followed with a barley risotto, then grilled fish on grilled salad.  The dessert was a Neapolitan Trio:  mini chocolate lava cake, strawberry sorbet, a white chocolate stick and a smear of caramel.

It was a quiet day.  I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.


***it is entirely possible that HE did not enjoy it as much as SHE did.  

Eight years, day one

I find myself quite surprised that it is already the end of January (okay, it's February, but it WAS January when I wrote this, honest).  How did that happen?  Eight years have gone by since our wedding, and often I wonder how that happened too.  It was my year to plan the surprise, and Martin seems to be quite pleased.  Last year, he completely spoiled me with an abundance of spa services but he really doesn't enjoy much of that sort of thing.  My goal then was to find something to appeal to him.

My first plan was to take us someplace warm where he could enjoy MacWorld.  I'd been working on that idea for two years, but had to let it go.  Instead I looked for a lake, a fireplace, someplace to walk to and an awesome dinner.  I have to say that it worked out brilliantly, and everything I wanted to be a surprise was.

We drove to Mt. Tremblant and stayed at the marvellous Quintessence.  We were greeted warmly at the door by Eric, who quickly took our luggage and ushered us inside.  Julien, who helped me plan the week, met us and we were checked in within moments.   I never expected the hotel room to be so lovely, and particularly to have so much room since space on the ski hill is at a premium, and that is reflected in the sizes of, well, everything. Restaurants might only seat twenty, hotel rooms are typically the type where you will surely stub your toe because everything is so cramped.  Eric lit the fire while we explored it all. We had both a patio door and a window overlooking the lake, and it was quiet and serene in spite of the many people on the ski hill itself.   Our room featured a huge massage tub, and a massive shower and I couldn't wait to try out either one.

A half hour or so after our arrival, we were presented with two welcoming plates.  The first was an assortment of fine Quebec cheeses, fruit and crostini.  The second held the largest prawns I'd ever seen, as well as house smoked trout and crab claws. It didn't take us long at all to settle in front of the fire and thoroughly enjoy it all.

The mild weather this year was a pleasant surprise, since all the other years it has been bitterly cold.   The moment I said that out loud, however, Martin warned me to be quiet in case I jinxed it.  Not ten minutes later, we were met with freezing rain and I think that is actually colder than -30C.  Then the wind picked up, and we were grateful thate only had a block or so to travel to find restaurant choices for dinner.  The pizza place won out, mostly because it was the closest.

It wouldn't have mattered if we had found any food at all.  We had found a peaceful place to just be together for awhile.  There were no demands on either of us, and it could not have been more perfect.