I wish I could show you what Parc Lafontaine looks like this morning - every branch encased in glass and sparkling as the pale sunlight over the river to the south shines through and refracts. None of the photographs I've tried to take have captured the view at all, and I felt a little better about my failures when my professional-photographer husband declined to go out this morning, saying he was never satisfied with his attempts either. Of course the temperature might have had something to do with it too!
Yesterday afternoon we walked up to Mont-Royal and bought a Christmas tree - our first in probably five years of running back and forth between places and never feeling at home for Christmas. We were all excited, and the tree - a perfect little balsam - is now set up and awaiting lights and ornaments, which we'll put on tonight with my sister-in-law who's visiting this weekend.
The man we bought the tree from sets up an enclosed sales area every year up on the main street of the neighborhood; he brings a camper and seems to live there, open for sales day and night, during the entire season. I had never met him before, and when he came out and greeted us I was absolutely stunned. "Have you ever seen such a beautiful face?" I whispered to J. as we examined the trees. "He's incredible!" he agreed. He was medium height, and wearing a brown snowmobile-coverall, but it was the eyes that struck us, set in a chiseled but gentle countenance, surrounded by luxuriant white and sandy curls barely contained by a Santa-hat: a Renaissance face with a Zen vibe.
Another angel to go with the last ones, I think, but don't angels always visit in threes?
We got our Christmas music at rehearsal on Thursday - another folder full of gorgeous anthems and carols for a 4:00 pm service on Christmas Eve, and then the festival midnight mass.
Meanwhile, here's the music for tomorrow afternoon's broadcast:
Evensong, 4:00 pm EST
Prelude: Partita: Lo, how a rose, James Woodman (b. 1957)
Introit: Lo, how a rose e’er blooming, Michael Praetorius
(1571-1621), arr. Phil Mattson
Preces and Responses: Thomas Ebdon (1738-1811)
Psalm: 102 (Wesley, Davy)
Anthem: O quickly
come, Antony Pitts (b. 1969)
Postlude: Partita: Lo, how a rose, Joseph Ahrens (1904-97)
Remind J that 8 degrees is warm. Oh how I miss the -40 degrees of January. Thanks, sincerely, for the memories of that park, Beth. More powerful than I can name, except that it has something to do with beginnings, middles and endings. Sing well. I'll pray that my readers will tune in to Radio Ville-Marie, more and more.
Posted by: FrScott | December 13, 2008 at 07:34 PM
I'm looking at the lovely photo, Beth, and doing my annual yearn for a bit of real snow. The closest we'll get this year is crap Christmas cards depicting stagecoaches outside snow clad inns.
Good to know that Moeran's getting an airing. An unjustly neglected composer.
Posted by: Dick | December 14, 2008 at 04:30 AM
I'm looking at the lovely photo, Beth, and doing my annual yearn for a bit of real snow. The closest we'll get this year is crap Christmas cards depicting stagecoaches outside snow clad inns.
Good to know that Moeran's getting an airing. An unjustly neglected composer.
Posted by: Dick | December 14, 2008 at 04:31 AM
We just got a perfect little balsam too!
Posted by: language hat | December 15, 2008 at 08:51 AM
We just got a perfect little balsam too!
Posted by: language hat | December 15, 2008 at 08:53 AM
That snow looks gorgeous - lovely photo. I don't know any of that music but will make a note of it. Good luck with the singing.
Posted by: Pete | December 15, 2008 at 09:35 AM
Oh, I LOVE the picture. I can just picture it. Thanks for the well wishes about my back. I'm trying not to let it change my personality, but boy, it's a stress to be in pain all the time!
Posted by: therapydoc | December 15, 2008 at 05:32 PM
This makes me feel MUCH better about my own failure to effectively capture an icestorm! Ironically, I got started on photography when I blogged about a big icestorm back in 2005, and my cousin, who grew up in the area, mailed me his old digital camera so that next time he'd be able to see what it looked like.
Posted by: Dave | December 16, 2008 at 10:01 AM
I can imagine the frustration of not getting that light on film [or disk]. But it is a lovely park whatever season. I know that area of Montreal pretty well, and every year in May (& sometimes June too) visit friends who live across the street from that park. The photo you included here is a good depiction of the muffled sounds you encounter on such a day.
Teresa
Posted by: Teresa | December 16, 2008 at 01:52 PM
Lovely lovely photo -- and I heard this phrase used by folks in Oregon to describe the ice: "a silver thaw."
Posted by: Lori Witzel | December 25, 2008 at 02:51 PM