Breathing time: December 23, early evening
Yesterday, I felt Montréal expand and contract, like bellows stoking a Yule log.
The streets were curiously calm in a city of millions, as workers headed home, a lighter crowd than usual. A distinct note of excitement rode the arctic air. Café windows steamed, people grabbed a quick bag of groceries, things they would need in preparation for Christmas Eve's réveillon.
This woman, Christmasy in her red coat, was at the market, buying cranberries for scones.
A young woman served, one eye on the clock; she too had somewhere to go in a half-hour...
...and a couple dragged their tree home.
The city simultaneously expanded with a burst of song: Christmas concerts, symphonies, céilidhs. Someone set up a xylophone on the street for passers-by to tap. Two teenaged boys sang a carol in harmony at a bus stop, with a little competition to hold the final note.
There's an expansiveness of spirit, too. A sidewalk tree vendor posted a sign:
My friend Marina and I spent the evening in rapt conversation at our neighbourhood hangout, Notre Dame des Quilles. The house bought a round.
Outside, a couple smoked; the young man's beret in silhouette. If you look straight down under the "A" you can just see its tip, which shifted as he bobbed to the music.
And now it is the day of Christmas Eve, time to wish you happy holidays, as even the bus does here:
Your presence and comments have been a continual gift through the year; thank you for your ideas, stories and good will. I wish you all good things during your own breathing time.
I'll take the next two weeks off. See you in the Passage on January 7, 2014.
The streets were curiously calm in a city of millions, as workers headed home, a lighter crowd than usual. A distinct note of excitement rode the arctic air. Café windows steamed, people grabbed a quick bag of groceries, things they would need in preparation for Christmas Eve's réveillon.
This woman, Christmasy in her red coat, was at the market, buying cranberries for scones.
A young woman served, one eye on the clock; she too had somewhere to go in a half-hour...
...and a couple dragged their tree home.
The city simultaneously expanded with a burst of song: Christmas concerts, symphonies, céilidhs. Someone set up a xylophone on the street for passers-by to tap. Two teenaged boys sang a carol in harmony at a bus stop, with a little competition to hold the final note.
There's an expansiveness of spirit, too. A sidewalk tree vendor posted a sign:
My friend Marina and I spent the evening in rapt conversation at our neighbourhood hangout, Notre Dame des Quilles. The house bought a round.
Outside, a couple smoked; the young man's beret in silhouette. If you look straight down under the "A" you can just see its tip, which shifted as he bobbed to the music.
And now it is the day of Christmas Eve, time to wish you happy holidays, as even the bus does here:
Your presence and comments have been a continual gift through the year; thank you for your ideas, stories and good will. I wish you all good things during your own breathing time.
I'll take the next two weeks off. See you in the Passage on January 7, 2014.
Comments
Thanks for writing a great blog!
Lovely photos of the neighbourhood. I must be becoming an old grouch, as it makes me sad to see young people still taking up smoking...
Winter Ice.JPG
Thank you for your very special kind of blogging, already missing your posts till your return.
Instead of snow we've got the warm wind "Foehn" from the Alpes, bringing temperatures of 18 Celsius and a lot of sun.
We don't complain.
Wishing you and your family a wonderful holiday--
C.
xoxoxo
Wendy
P xxx
I did enjoy the quiet and the increased interaction over the holiday - saying hello to people met on a walk, every car is parked, all the windows are lit and smells of food are steaming out... I hope to hold some of the peace from the Nine Lessons and Carols service and from Christmas day into the New Year.
PS - have a lovely break!