Spica is the brightest object in the constellation of Virgo located about 260 light years away. This binary star is 2,200 times more powerful than our Sun making it one of the 20 most prominent objects in the night sky. Spica was also the name of our cabin at Parc national du Mont-Mégantic where we spent the last few days of 2018 and greeted the New Year.
Spica is the brightest star in the constellation of Virgo; it was also the name of our cabin at Parc national du Mont-Mégantic Continue reading
2018 had a lot going for it. It started with a magnificent sunrise from a hill-top cabin in Quebec. We travelled to California to spend time with my brother and his family. We visited many new parks, finally making it to Yosemite and Sequoia, and new cities, like San Francisco. We got to explore familiar places and see different sides of them. My essay about gardening appeared in The Globe and Mail connecting me with fellow gardeners and yielding a free bag of compost.
Not too long ago I came across a post in my Facebook feed. I don’t remember the exact wording but it went along the lines of: if you don’t embrace winter, you will still have the same amount of winter and way more misery. Or maybe it was “embrace snow”? Anyway, the point is: rather than complaining about the weather and waiting for winter to go away, it’s way more fun to get outside and enjoy it.
A little cabin in the woods is your gateway to enjoying winter Continue reading
I grip the handles of my seat as the plane leaves the tarmac of Thunder Bay International Airport. Not that I am afraid of flying; just prefer to remain on the ground. That little niggle at the pit of my stomach is forgotten as soon as the frozen expanse of Lake Superior comes into view. The white is interrupted by the dark blue waters, smooth and serene from up here. Glued to the window, I glimpse the head and chest of Sleeping Giant, just as majestic from the air as he is from the ground. The plane dives into the cloud before I manage to say good-bye.
Lake Superior and Sleeping Giant disappear under the cloud Continue reading
There is often a moment at the end of a trip when the packing is done, I get whatever firewood we have left and start the fire. That’s my small attempt to soak up the last of the camping magic along with some smoke and to postpone the moment of returning to the world of glass and concrete. Don’t get me wrong: city life has its charms. Occasionally, though, the traffic, the noise, and, most importantly, constant presence of people becomes too much. That’s why moments like these are a necessity. An escape into solitude. An opportunity to recharge.
On February 2nd, in a true Groundhog Day tradition, we were back on the road heading to Arrowhead Provincial Park, again. In many ways it felt like a repeat of our last trip: it was late, it was snowing, and our cabin was a mirror image of the previous one, except for a table lamp, coat hooks and a different Group of Seven reproduction above the door. There was another big difference, of course. Our older son couldn’t join us so it was just the three of us.
Big Bend decked in white
“In winter we wait for spring, in spring we wait for summer. Always waiting for something,” says a woman standing next to me in the elevator. I can see her friend nodding vigorously, and I find myself agreeing as well. While I am committed to embracing whatever each season brings, some days it is easier said than done. Case in point: our recent trip to Arrowhead or rather the obstacles of getting there.