Okay, I'm back ! I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving, or, for those of you who aren't Canadian, but think we're just another state, a happy Columbus Day.

My cottage was spectacular. Yes, it's always wonderful there, but it was extra spiffy this time, because it was so perfect. I had no pressures attached to the making of art for the expo, just time with myself, Mom, Melody (the cat we brought because she needs daily medication) and all the things I chose to spend time doing. I think it wouldn't be fair to chronicle the events as I so often do, rather I think this time I'll just high light some stand-out moments (hours). There was at least one such event each day - it was that kind of a holiday.

We arrived on Thursday, after dark, to find the house exactly as it was left. This was a wonderful thing. For the last four summers, excluding this past summer, we've rented our cottage to friends of the family. In years prior to that, often the camp was used by friends in the Montreal area on the weekends. This time, no one had been using the camp since Mom closed it up at the end of August. All the pots and pans, glasses and forks were exactly as they had been left. The bedrooms were as they had been, things stored where they were supposed to be; a rare and exquisite pleasure, simple as it is.

The first fire that we lit was a wonderful thing, too. Oh, the smell of wood smoke filling the woods and tinging the air in the cabin is one of my favourite things. I love the sound of birch when it pops and the flare of heat when I open the stove doors. It's an airtight stove, so it heats well and effeciently. The piece itself probably ways six hundred pounds and is cast iron. The house may rot back to the earth and that stove will remain. There's a lovely familiar squeak as you turn the handles to open the doors, too, sort of a chirp that signifies warmth, love, and probably my mother cursing as a log rolls off of where it should be pinning her poker beneath it. Unfortunately, Melody became the second cat we've owned to jump on it. It is a good thing her feet are tufty with fur, because she didn't burn them badly. The second cat and in both instances, neither cat could boast a remarkable mind.

I took a walk every day that we were up there. On the Saturday, I went and picked apples from the trees that stand in what were once the fields of the McEvoy farm. Monge owns it now, and has for years, but I remember when the fields were still fields, albeit overgrown. Once, crossing the stream that runs through them, my father and I fell in. Apparently my fears of crossing over a fallen tree were completely well-founded, and we both sogged our way home. I still remember how my sneakers squelched. Anyway, now the fields are choked with evergreens planted when Monge took the fields, their purpose, I suppose, eventually to be harvested for timber. Thick though they grow, they have not crushed the indomitable spirit of the old apple trees, nor, it seems, have they infiltrated the deeper areas of field. I picked a basket's worth of apples for Thanksgiving dinner. Mom makes the BEST spiced crabapples. Ever. This time, I was smart enough to greet the trees warmly and not climb about in them, as apple trees, at least in the mythology, are very... difficult. Last summer, I learned the hard way when my pants were torn quite vulgarly through the inner thighs and my knee was twisted painfully as I fell out of one tree. The trees, this time, seemed quite happy to share their burden with me, and they ended up quite delicious.

Thanksgiving dinner was great ! Mom bought a roaster, rather than toiling all day over the wood-burner in the kitchen. It was a marvelous adventure and a complete success ! Elizabeth came in from Montreal (never play cards with her, she's a shark, something we forget everytime) and Jean and Michael came up the hill to join us in our feast. We moved the dinning room table out of the 'dining room' and into the living room, near the big stove, in order to accomodate the larger number of people. The turkey was perfect, the apples were perfect, the stuffing and potatoes were perfect, the pie was perfect, and the company was better than that ! It was a memorable Thanksgiving, to be sure.

We took a drive up the Rouge River (Riviere Rouge, as the signage says) in order to see the fall colours and, as they were coming into their peak, we were not disappointed. I climbed about on the massive rocks of the river, as I often do, only this time I was bundled in a long sleeved shirt, a flannel lumber shirt, and my leather jacket. It was cold ! It had actually bottomed out at zero degrees the previous night. Anyway, Mom and I collected a pair of pebbles to take to Leo's grave and then we took the very scenic route to the cemetary. We laid the pebbles on the gravestone and then wandered in the rest of the cemetary reading some of the other names. McEvoy, McArthur, Lalonde, Poirier, MacAndrews... if anyone thinks Quebec was founded soley by French people, they just need to visit the rural cemetaries of western Quebec and the Eastern Townships; laine pur, my arse. Following our visit to Leo, we went home to enjoy leftovers. Yum !

Anyway, so now I'm back in Toronto, for the night, before gathering up my cat and boyfriend to head back to the Petes for fun over the weekend. Rick hasn't been out to the Petes in a long time, so it should be nice. We'll be haunting a corn maze the Saturday night, and enjoying a champagne brunch in support of the Peterborough Symphony Orchestra. Keen !

And finally, in other news, I finished my work on the ROM site and why am I not surprised to see that it hasn't been added to their webpage, yet? Maybe I'll drop into the IT department tomorrow when I'm in to pick up my paycheque and see Brett about it. Oh well, the work was done and now it's out of my hands.