Morning Snow

We woke to our first snowy December morning today, and very likely our only one of the year. Sebastian and I had planned a forest hike for today before we woke, so it was extra exciting. By the time we had our wool and rubber boots on it was already slushy. But we're not far from the mountain. You're never far from the ocean or the mountain on the Coast, and sometimes I forget that. There's a head trail by our house and we were in the forest on a steep incline to the mountain in about ten toddler minutes. I have to say, Sebastian was the trouper of the two of us. My feet were cold as usual, but he wanted to "keep going up!" Eventually we veered off and found the park off the country road. There's always snow in the mountains here, and I've long pronounced this year winter of the mountain. So it begins!

Imagination

Sebastian's imagination has leapt lately. He went from mimicking to roaming through a whole private world in what seemed a matter of days. He tells stories. One night over dinner he told us that I didn't give birth to him but that he came from goats. He's friends with the sky, water and mountains and also fireworks (of course). He's apparently going backpacking with his friends, first outside then upstairs. 

He seems to have a reoccurring dream about "cars in the balls!" and he talks a lot to his baby dolls and stuffed animals and sometimes they seem to talk back.

Around the time this started happened, he also became more aware of something almost etherial. He mentioned people around us matter-of-factly when we were alone. Like, "Someones in the kitchen, Mama" and "Who's behind us?" when we're walking alone up the stairs from the beach, or "There's a guy in the bathroom waiting." One day a guy with face tattoos came in and played Duplo with him. Other times our neighbour, kind of  strange and visually compelling man, is apparently in the house and Sebastian has nicknamed him "wormy guy" (just waiting for that one to slip out face-to-face).  

I never assumed he was using his imagination. When he uses his imagination you can see his mind working, he's transparent or overly focused on being casual. When he mentions these people he's stating fact. It's been a bit chilling at times. I've caught myself investigating rooms to make sure no one has broken into our house. I've asked him for details. 

But I guess it doesn't surprise me. I'm sensitive to spirits, too and so is Alex. When Sebastian was born the apartment felt crammed with spirits to the point where I would have constant nagging dreams about them, only to wake and find myself still with them. They were there for Sebastian, curious and sometimes overbearing. When I asked them to leave they left. 

It doesn't surprise me because I know a lot of kids are like this. A few of my friends have chilling stories from when their kids were Sebastian's age. I talk about it with people, but the more he overhears the more he's aware of it, and I think that dilutes it. 

November

Since I last wrote we've celebrated my dad's 60th birthday with a little bash here at our house, I've sat in front of the computer for approximately a thousand hours writing a novella, and Alex has started waking up at five thirty a.m. for some quiet writing time. I think that about covers November!
No wait! There's more. Alex built us a bookshelf, which might sound insignificant but for two writers who haven't unpacked all their books for nearly a decade it was a moment to cherish. It turns out we don't have that many books. Huh.

The two dads in my life. 

"GeeGee Archie" (aka my grandpa)

We jammed. 

Empty bookshelf number one. 

Empty bookshelf number two.

You know winter has arrived when you're dressing 

your rabbit up in doll clothes for "fun."

November and the farms stands are still full. I wasn't sure what to expect, this being our first winter here where we are really dedicated to supporting local business and buying local organics. Our garden is minimal. We had our first frost here two nights ago, and some tiny cilantro plants and the arugula were left uncovered. We have a meagre crop in the "hot house" but really, it's not much. How quickly crop vanishes. But the kale and chard will have no problems (except for the slugs) and the garlic is in the ground for next summer. But the farms offer all the minimals of winter: eggs, cured onion, potatoes, herbs, leeks, beets, turnips, carrots, dark greens and so many beautiful squash. Also, the best pickles ever. Occasionally a treat surfaces, like ground cherries (in November?!). We can have a meal night after night with dried stores and these offerings. This is the first time in my life where I've understood how to sustain mostly off local food. We still rely on grains, four, oatmeal, cheese galore, and the occasion non-local meat, but if you can pair this with most anything from the farms you have legitimate meal day after day. From the goods in the picture above we got: potato and leek quiche, roasted root vegetables with kale chips, and sweet pumpkin pie. Not bad, really. More on this later.

We spent the morning in the rain. We're trying to embrace it. Sebastian and I walked into town for art class, wandered around the streets in the downpour. Sebastian doesn't mind the rain in his full-body rain suit and often trudges along saying, "I like the rain. I like it. I like the rain." But I haven't been as patient, not when the stroller is pooling and we have a long narrow-shouldered highway to make our home on. We headed down to the kiosk for our last burritos and tacos of the season, stood under the patio with the dock folks-- the island workers (Alex amongst them), the water taxi driver, sailboat dwellers, dock kids (Sebastian and friends)-- and watched the rain come down. Something of a camaraderie. We took a walk on the dock, watched the big fishing boats rock, no one really coming or going. I remember now why we love cafes, and how clothes and walls grow mouldy (but not this year, dammit), and that we still have never bought an umbrella. 

The garden is more or less tucked away for the season. We have one lonely raised bed half-full of chard and kale that will supplement throughout the winter, half a dozen beets stored in the ground somewhere and garlic planted for next summer, but that's about it. Everything else is covered in maple leaves. We have been collecting leaves like we're hobos and they're beer bottles. Leaves are a hot commodity for us, with only a few cherry trees in the yard and the rest acidic cedars. We've been dragging dozens of bags home throughout the month, and now the compost is full, the beds are covered, and we're happy to know our hard work will finally extend into seasons upon seasons as we stay in this house and build up the yard. We're planning for spring and summer gardens already, shovelling grass over for new garden beds, dog-earing and circling pages in the seed catalogue (well, maybe that's just me). In the meantime, we'll be collecting rain (and hoping all the Easterners protection from the storm today!). 

My new rain shoes and a pathetic brussels sprout plant.

Goodbye lawn, hello winter garden.

The cabin, empty and cold. 

Rock gardens and raised bed.

Little lion in mama's sweater after a long night walk in the rain.

Sneak peak at a halloween lion.

First day with the "wall off." 

What adventures will this boy have while we are sleeping? 

Winter Hares

Self Portrait with Rabbit

Evening

We had a great visit to Ottawa and Montreal this month. It was surreal to be back in Montreal and totally comfortable and familiar to be in Ottawa (family helps with that, I suppose). Sebastian was constantly doted on (subsequently rather difficult to deal with upon returning to BC, mostly in need on constant Mommy cuddles and waking up throughout the night) and Alex and I enjoyed being childless for a lot of the week. The highlight of the trip for me was definitely walking through Montreal, wandering around all the old neighbourhoods that had such a punch of nostalgia, and seeing the beautiful faces of old friends. It's reassuring to know that even after being away for a year and a half, it's pretty simple to show up. I forgot to take many Ottawa pictures (Alex's parents have approximately 1000 photos on a disk, barreling our way via Canada Post), but here are some Montreal highlights:

Sebi's morning in Montreal started with a chocolate croissant and a tiny steamed milk in an espresso cup at Blanch de Blanch. Petit Henri!

Fabienne and her beautiful zoetrope.

Alex, Sebi, Julia & Emmy. Oh, and Restaurant John 2.0, best reno ever. 

We broke into our old place! Well, sort of. 

Saint Henri

Rue Sainte Philomene, where it all went down.

Sebastian's first Ottawa Halloween pumpkin carving. Took much convincing to get that hand in there.

The best way to come home after a long trip on a chilly October day is to light a fire. The stillness of the house quickly gives way and it's like having a wild creature take care of the strangeness of an unlived-in house while you crawl into bed and have a nap. It's good to be home.